Ger&ld  Hamilton  Beard 


y.      Ma.ry  Keycs 

THEIR  BOOK 

DATE     .  NO. 


presented  to  the 

LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  •  SAN  DIEGO 

by 
FRIENDS  OF  THE  LIliKARY 


Mr.  and  Mrs.  Leslie  Scott 

donor 


LIFE  AND  LETTERS 

OF 

PHILLIPS    BROOKS 

VOLUME  I 


©C^G^. 


PREFACE 

THE  task  of  preparing  the  Memoir  of  Phillips  Brooks  has 
been  delayed  by  circumstances  which  could  not  be  controlled, 
until  it  is  now  more  than  seven  years  since  the  world  was  sud- 
denly called  upon  to  mourn  his  departure.  There  came  a  sad 
interruption,  in  the  death  of  the  Rev.  Arthur  Brooks,  in  July, 
1895,  who  had  made  such  progress  in  the  short  time  he  had 
been  engaged  on  the  biography  that,  had  he  lived,  he  would 
soon  have  completed  it.  When  the  materials  for  writing  the 
life  were  placed  in  my  hands,  in  the  fall  of  1895,  I  was  occu- 
pied with  other  work,  and  this  was  not  finished  till  the  fall 
of  1897.  From  the  moment  that  I  was  free  to  begin  the 
task,  I  have  devoted  to  it  all  the  time  that  could  be  spared 
from  my  professional  duties,  and  have  labored  to  hasten  its 
completion,  keenly  aware  that  the  popular  interest  in  Phillips 
Brooks  impatiently  demanded  the  appearance  of  the  book 
which  should  tell  to  the  world  the  story  of  the  life  by  whose 
greatness  it  had  been  so  profoundly  moved. 

When  I  began  to  write,  I  supposed  that  my  task  would  be 
easier  than  I  have  found  it.  The  study  of  the  material  con- 
vinced me  that  I  was  dealing  with  a  character  singularly  com- 
plex despite  its  simplicity,  a  career  wherein  there  were  epochs 
and  distinct  phases  of  development.  There  was  danger  of 
doing  injustice,  or  of  failing  to  appreciate  motives  of  action. 
The  full  meaning  of  events  and  deeds  did  not  at  once  appear. 
Time  was  required  before  the  insight  was  gained  revealing 
the  relative  significance  of  what  was  obscure.  It  was  neces- 
sary to  search  for  further  material,  by  correspondence  and  by 


vi  PREFACE 

personal  interviews  with  those  who  could  give  the  information 
desired.  I  had  no  theory  of  writing  a  biography  when  I 
began,  and  I  have  none  as  I  close,  except  to  allow  the  material 
to  have  its  full  weight  upon  the  mind,  to  live  as  far  as  possible 
in  the  life  of  the  man  whom  I  was  seeking  to  know,  and  to 
furnish  to  the  reader  what  seemed  interesting  or  important 
as  throwing  light  upon  his  character  and  work. 

To  this  end,  I  have  given  greater  space  to  his  formative 
years  and  to  his  earlier  ministry  than  those  who  were  familiar 
only  with  the  Boston  ministry  may  think  was  necessary.  But 
he  valued  his  early  years,  and  cannot  be  understood  without 
them.  Not  only  were  the  foundations  of  his  greatness  there, 
but  the  ministry  in  Philadelphia  and  the  experiences  of  the 
civil  war  called  forth  a  manifestation  of  power  such  as  his 
later  years  never  surpassed.  Philadelphia  was  always  in  his 
consciousness,  even  when  he  seemed  so  identified  with  Boston 
that  people  almost  forgot  that  he  had  ever  lived  elsewhere. 

In  giving  the  account  of  his  earlier  career,  it  was  possible 
to  go  with  minuteness  into  its  incidents  and  approximately 
to  trace  the  extent  of  his  influence.  After  he  came  to  Bos- 
ton, the  life  which  had  been  steadily  expanding  assumed 
mightier  proportions.  We  may  compare  it  to  a  river  which 
had  burst  its  banks,  overflowing  the  surrounding  territory  so 
that  the  current  could  with  difficulty  be  traced.  Or,  if  we 
may  change  the  figure,  his  life  grew  more  to  resemble  the 
ocean  in  its  uniform  vastness  and  majesty,  sometimes  at  rest, 
and  then  again  lashed  into  storms,  but  whose  limits  have  be- 
come invisible,  or  retreat  as  we  attempt  to  measure  them.  So 
different  was  the  Boston  life,  and  so  complete  in  itself,  that  I 
have  made  it  the  dividing  line,  and  have  devoted  to  it  the 
second  volume. 

To  the  friends  of  Phillips  Brooks  who  have  loaned  impor- 
tant letters  or  put  at  my  disposal  their  intimate  knowledge, 


PREFACE  vii 

much  of  it  too  personal  or  too  sacred  to  be  told,  I  express  my 
gratitude,  and  to  the  many  others  who  have  aided  me  in  vari- 
ous ways :  to  the  Rt.  Rev.  Thomas  M.  Clark,  Rt.  Rev.  Henry 
C.  Potter,  Rt.  Rev.  A.  M.  Randolph ;  Rev.  Charles  D.  Cooper, 
Rev.  Charles  A.  L.  Richards,  Rev.  George  Augustus  Strong, 
Rev.  W.  F.  Paddock,  Dr.  S.  Weir  Mitchell,  Mr.  Lewis  H. 
Redner,  Miss  Vinton,  Miss  Meredith ;  Rev.  E.  Winchester 
Donald,  and  the  clergy  associated  with  Phillips  Brooks  at 
Trinity  Church,  —  Rev.  F.  B.  Allen,  Rev.  W.  Dewees 
Roberts,  Rev.  Roland  Cotton  Smith ;  the  wardens  and 
vestry  of  Trinity  Church ;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lorin  F.  Deland, 
Mrs.  Henry  Whitman,  Miss  Alice  Weston  Smith,  Mrs.  Burr 
Porter,  Miss  Woods,  Miss  Ellicott,  Mrs.  R.  J.  Hall ;  Presi- 
dent Eliot,  who  kindly  afforded  the  opportunity  to  search  the 
records  of  the  faculty  of  Harvard  University,  and  the  officers 
of  the  Harvard  Library ;  the  classmates  of  Phillips  Brooks, 
—  Mr.  George  C.  Sawyer,  Mr.  Edwin  H.  Abbott ;  Mr.  Henry 
L.  Higginson,  Hon.  George  F.  Hoar,  Hon.  John  D.  Long, 
Mrs.  Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps  Ward,  Mr.  H.  Winslow 
Warren ;  Rev.  William  R.  Huntington,  Rev.  Charles  C. 
Tiffany,  Rev.  R.  Heber  Newton,  Rev.  Alexander  McKenzie, 
Rev.  George  A.  Gordon,  Rev.  Lyman  Abbott,  Rev.  C.  W. 
Duffield ;  Rev.  Professor  Francis  G.  Peabody  and  Professor 
George  H.  Palmer  of  Harvard,  Mr.  Horace  E.  Scudder,  Mr. 
M.  A.  De  Wolfe  Howe,  and  others ;  the  Dean  of  Canterbury, 
Dr.  Farrar,  Lady  Frances  Baillie,  Mrs.  Margaret  Mcllvaine 
Messer,  and  other  friends  of  Phillips  Brooks  in  England. 

I  gratefully  acknowledge  my  obligation  to  the  Rt.  Rev. 
William  Lawrence,  for  generous  and  constant  sympathy 
while  the  work  has  been  in  progress,  for  many  valuable 
suggestions  he  has  offered,  and  for  wise  criticism ;  and  for 
special  aid,  to  Mr.  Robert  Treat  Paine,  Rt.  Rev.  W.  N.  Mc- 
Vickar.  Rev.  Percy  Browne,  Rev.  Leighton  Parks,  Rev.  Wm. 


viii  PREFACE 

Wilberforce  Newton.  Rev.  Charles  H.  Learoyd  has  read 
the  proof  as  it  went  through  the  press,  on  whose  knowledge, 
sound  judgment,  and  literary  sense  I  have  relied.  To  the 
Rev.  Reuben  Kidner,  who  has  furnished  the  index,  I  am 
under  further  obligation,  for  his  unwearied  interest,  careful 
search  for  information,  and  painstaking  accuracy. 

The  representatives  of  the  family  of  Phillips  Brooks,  at 
whose  request  I  undertook  the  work  of  writing  his  life,  Mr. 
William  Gray  Brooks  and  the  Rev.  John  Cotton  Brooks, 
have  imparted  freely  the  knowledge  which  they  alone  could 
give,  placing  also  at  my  disposal  the  journals,  note-books,  and 
other  manuscripts  of  their  brother,  —  in  a  word,  the  materials 
for  the  Memoir.  I  have  sought  to  use  it  to  the  best  ad- 
vantage, but  have  labored  under  an  embarrassment  of  wealth. 
With  the  representatives  of  the  family  I  connect  the  Rev. 
James  P.  Franks,  whose  association  with  Phillips  Brooks 
from  an  early  period  gave  him  opportunities  of  knowledge 
which  but  few  could  possess.  Mrs.  Arthur  Brooks  devoted 
her  time  to  putting  in  order  convenient  for  reference  the 
large  amount  of  material  her  husband  had  collected,  and  thus 
greatly  simplified  and  reduced  my  labors. 

Let  me  speak  more  particularly  of  Arthur  Brooks,  and  of 
what  this  biography  owes  to  him.  These  two  brothers  were 
singularly  alike  in  their  appearance,  a  resemblance  which  in 
later  years  became  so  striking  that,  after  the  death  of  Phillips 
Brooks,  one  might  almost  fancy  that  he  had  returned  to  the 
world  in  bodily  form.  The  resemblance  is  further  seen  in  the 
work  they  did,  in  the  important  positions  held  and  the  wide 
influence  exerted.  From  Williamsport,  in  Pennsylvania, 
where  Arthur  Brooks  began  his  ministry  with  great  promise, 
he  was  called  to  be  the  rector  of  St.  James's  Church,  Chicago, 
one  of  the  most  important  parishes  in  the  city.  He  accepted 
the  position,  although  a  difficult  one,  for  the  church  building 


PREFACE  ix 

was  in  ruins,  after  the  memorable  fire.  With  such  success  did 
he  meet,  that  in  his  short  rectorate  the  church  was  rebuilt  and 
the  parish  restored  to  its  former  eminence.  In  1874  he  was 
called  to  be  the  rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Incarnation  on 
Madison  Avenue  in  New  York.  This  church,  like  St.  James's 
in  Chicago,  was  among  the  most  prominent  in  the  city  for  its 
large  membership,  its  wealth,  and  social  influence.  Here 
he  remained  till  his  death,  constantly  growing  in  the  recog- 
nition of  his  parish  and  of  the  whole  city.  He  was  not  only 
esteemed  as  a  pastor  and  preacher,  but  commanded  respect 
for  his  high  Christian  character.  Especially  was  he  valued 
for  his  administrative  ability,  and  this,  in  conjunction  with 
his  sound  judgment  in  affairs,  gave  him  a  place  of  leader- 
ship outside  the  bounds  of  his  own  parish.  Two  important 
institutions  of  learning,  Princeton  University  and  the  Uni- 
versity of  the  City  of  New  York,  honored  him  with  the 
degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity. 

He  inherited  the  family  tradition  of  the  importance  of 
education.  As  one  of  the  trustees  of  the  Philadelphia  Divin- 
ity School  he  took  an  active  interest  in  promoting  its  effi- 
ciency. 

For  five  years  [writes  the  Rev.  John  Cotton  Brooks]  he  was  the 
chairman  of  Barnard  College,  and  virtually  its  head  in  the  most 
trying  time  of  its  history.  He  looked  over  this  great  city,  with  all 
its  wealth  of  resources,  and  saw  one  unsatisfied  need  amid  all  its 
fulness,  and  could  not  rest  satisfied  until  that  need  was  supplied. 
"  New  York  offers  everything  to  a  woman  but  an  education  !  "  he 
earnestly  cried;  and  then  he  set  about  getting  her  one.  The 
subscription  papers  for  the  site  of  the  college  and  the  correspondence 
on  the  choice  of  the  dean  lie  side  by  side  with  his  sermons  among 
his  papers  to-day,  and  the  rich,  full  girl's  life  in  the  beautiful 
building  on  Morningside  Heights  is  sealed  as  with  his  seal,  as  it 
bears  also  his  family  coat  of  arms  upon  its  front.  Since  his  death, 
nearly  half  a  million  of  dollars  have  come  to  the  college  directly 
from  what  he  has  done  and  been  for  it. 


x  PREFACE 

In  theology  he  was  in  harmony  with  his  brother's  attitude, 
like  him  alive  to  the  changes  passing  over  the  religious  world 
and  in  sympathy  with  the  tide  of  advancing  thought.  A 
volume  of  his  sermons  has  been  published,  revealing  his  gift 
of  connecting  theology  with  life.  An  address  which  he 
delivered  at  Alexandria  has  also  been  published,  where 
he  traces  with  clear  appreciation  the  place  and  importance 
of  the  Evangelical  school  in  the  history  of  the  American 
Episcopal  Church.  His  wisdom  and  his  sober  judgment 
made  him  a  most  admirable  man  with  whom  to  take  coun- 
sel. The  older  brother  appreciated  this  gift  in  the  younger 
brother,  seeking  his  advice  upon  every  step  which  he  pro- 
posed to  take.  From  the  time  of  Arthur  Brooks's  ordina- 
tion there  began  a  correspondence  between  the  brothers, 
made  valuable  by  the  confidence  they  had  in  each  other. 
Part  of  this  correspondence  only  has  gone  into  this  Memoir, 
since  much  of  it  was  too  personal  for  publication.  For  many 
years  it  was  their  custom  to  make  an  exchange  on  the  first 
Sunday  after  Easter,  when  Phillips  Brooks  spent  a  week 
in  New  York  at  his  brother's  house,  who  hastened  back 
from  Boston  to  be  with  him.  After  the  death  of  Phillips 
Brooks,  among  the  many  tributes  paid  to  him  in  the  pulpit 
and  in  other  ways,  none  had  such  deep  personal  interest  as 
the  sermon  delivered  by  Arthur  Brooks  at  the  Church  of  the 
Incarnation. 

Such  was  the  man  to  whom  the  biography  of  Phillips 
Brooks  was  originally  entrusted.  Amid  the  many  and  harass- 
ing claims  upon  his  time,  he  carried  on  a  large  correspond- 
ence, for  the  purpose  of  collecting  his  brother's  letters  and 
other  information  which  could  often  only  be  secured  by  per- 
sonal interviews.  He  carefully  went  through  the  large  mass 
of  correspondence,  detecting  with  an  unerring  eye  whatever 
was  important.  He  was  in  the  midst  of  these  labors  when 


PREFACE  xi 

death  overtook  him.  His  work  upon  the  biography,  valuable 
as  it  was,  because  enriched  by  his  contribution  of  memory, 
of  insight,  and  above  all  by  a  brother's  love,  was  left  behind 
him  unfinished,  and  it  was  found  necessary  to  begin  the  work 
anew.  In  the  process  of  travelling  over  the  ground  which 
he  had  reviewed  I  have  constantly  been  assisted  by  his  rare 
wisdom,  and  by  the  suggestions  he  has  afforded.  To  him, 
therefore,  the  completed  book  owes  more  than  to  any  one 
else.  A  sad  pathos  has  been  my  inheritance  in  entering 
upon  his  labors,  in  doing  the  work  it  should  have  been  given 
to  him  to  perform.  That  he  would  have  approved  of  my  ap- 
pointment to  the  task  from  which  he  was  snatched  has  been 
to  me  a  help  and  inspiration,  as  well  as  a  motive  so  to  labor 
that  the  biography  of  his  brother  should  be  in  harmony  with 
his  ideal. 

There  is  still  one  other  source  of  information  to  which 
I  have  been  indebted,  which  surely  calls  for  a  reference  here. 
When  Phillips  Brooks  died,  hundreds  of  sermons  were 
preached  which  commemorated  his  services  to  the  world. 
Articles  innumerable  were  published  in  the  newspapers, 
the  magazines,  and  reviews.  It  seemed  as  if  every  pulpit 
in  the  land  and  every  editor's  sanctum  were  moved  as  by 
an  irresistible  need  to  give  expression  of  grief  and  of  appre- 
ciation. This  was  true  not  only  of  America,  but  of  Eng- 
land, India,  China,  Japan,  and  South  Africa ;  wherever  the 
English  language  is  spoken  there  his  name  was  remembered. 
No  one  who  has  not  had  the  occasion  or  the  opportunity  to 
review  this  mass  of  material  can  realize  its  extent.  So 
eager  were  people  to  read  everything  written  about  him, 
that  the  slightest  incidents,  traditions,  anecdotes,  reports  of 
conversations,  were  welcomed  and  gained  wide  circulation. 
Through  all  this  I  have  conscientiously  gone  in  order  that 
nothing  should  escape  my  attention.  The  impression  gained 


xii  PREFACE 

from  the  perusal  is  that  the  people  went  straight  to  the  heart 
of  the  man,  knowing  well  the  grounds  of  their  gratitude  and 
love.  There  is  a  tone  of  authority  about  these  utterances,  as 
of  infallible  and  final  estimate.  They  remain  as  a  fixed  point 
of  departure  and  of  return  by  which  the  biographer  of  Phillips 
Brooks  must  needs  abide.  Where  no  one  man  alone  is  com- 
petent to  pronounce  a  judgment,  the  voice  of  the  people,  of 
the  many  who  studied  and  spoke  from  such  various  points 
of  view,  becomes  the  safest  guide.  And  this  verdict,  it  must 
be  said,  was  unanimous,  with  no  dissenting  opinion.  Very 
significant,  also,  is  the  large  amount  of  poetry  and  verse 
which  the  memory  of  Phillips  Brooks  inspired.  For  in  poetry 
more  may  be  safely  and  truly  said  than  would  seem  becoming 
under  the  limitations  of  prose. 

Much  of  the  material  appropriate  to  the  biography  has 
already  found  its  way  into  print,  such  as  the  "  Letters 
of  Travel,"  "  Letters  to  Children,"  and  other  letters  of 
Phillips  Brooks,  published  in  answer  to  pressing  demands. 
For  the  most  part  these  are  omitted,  or  dealt  with  in  sum* 
mary  when  required  for  the  connection  of  the  narrative.  It 
may  be  expecting  too  much  to  hope  that  no  inaccuracies  will 
be  found ;  but  the  effort  has  been  made  to  verify  from  the 
sources  whatever  has  been  given. 

I  close  my  task  with  a  feeling  of  gratitude  that  I  have 
been  permitted  to  enter  and  to  dwell  in  the  inmost  spirit 
of  Phillips  Brooks  in  the  confidential  way  permitted  to  a 
biographer.  The  spirit  of  reverence  with  which  I  com- 
menced my  work  has  grown  deeper  at  every  stage  of  my 
investigation.  These  words  of  Bishop  Jeremy  Taylor  apply 
to  the  character  of  Phillips  Brooks :  "  There  are  some  persons 
in  whom  the  Spirit  of  God  hath  breathed  so  bright  a  flame  of 
love,  that  they  do  all  their  acts  of  virtue  by  perfect  choice  and 
without  objection  ;  and  their  zeal  is  warmer  than  that  it  will 


PREFACE  xiii 

be  allayed  by  temptation  ;  and  to  such  persons  mortification 
by  philosophical  instruments,  as  fasting,  sackcloth,  and  other 
rudenesses,  is  wholly  useless.  If  love  hath  filled  all  the  cor- 
ners of  our  soul,  he  alone  is  able  to  do  all  the  work  of  God." 
And  again  to  quote  from  the  same  writer :  — 

There  is  a  sort  of  God's  dear  servants  who  walk  in  perfect- 
ness;  who  perfect  holiness  in  the  fear  of  God;  and  they  have  a 
degree  of  charity  and  divine  knowledge  more  than  we  can  dis- 
course of,  and  more  certain  than  the  demonstrations  of  geometry, 
brighter  than  the  .sun,  and  indeficient  as  the  light  of  heaven.  But 
I  shall  say  no  more  of  this  at  this  time ;  for  this  is  to  be  felt  and 
not  to  be  talked  of ;  and  they  who  never  touched  it  with  their  fin- 
gers may  secretly,  perhaps,  laugh  at  it  in  their  hearts  and  be  never 
the  wiser.  All  that  I  shall  now  say  of  it  is,  that  a  good  man  is 
united  unto  God,  KeVrpov  /COT/MO  crwai^as.  As  a  flame  touches  a 
flame  and  combines  into  splendor  and  glory,  so  is  the  spirit  of  a 
man  united  unto  Christ  by  the  Spirit  of  God.  These  are  the 
friends  of  God  and  they  best  know  God's  mind  ;  and  they  only 
that  are  so  know  how  much  such  men  do  know.  They  have  a 
special  unction  from  above. 

There  are  other  words  of  sacred  authority  which  seem  to 
tell  of  Phillips  Brooks,  when  used  without  reference  to  theo- 
logical distinctions,  but  in  their  plain  and  human  meaning ; . 
they  are  words  which  have  been  much  in  my  mind  as  I  have 
been  studying  his  life  :  Whom  He  did  foreknow,  He  also  did 
predestinate  to  be  conformed  to  the  image  of  His  Son;  and 
whom  He  foreordained,  them  He  also  called  ;  and  whom  He 
called,  them  He  also  justified ;  and  whom  He  justified,  them 
He  also  glorified. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I. 


THE  ANCESTRY 


CHAPTER  H. 

BIRTH  AND  EARLY  LIFE.  —  THE  TRANSITION  TO  THE  EPISCOPAL 
CHURCH.  —  THE  BOSTON  LATIN  SCHOOL 31 

CHAPTER  III. 

1851-1855. 
HARVARD  COLLEGE 68 

CHAPTER  IV. 

September,  1855-October,  1856. 

EXPERIENCE  AS  USHER  IN  THE  BOSTON  LATIN  SCHOOL.  —  RE- 
LIGIOUS IMPRESSIONS.  —  EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOK  .  .  .  100 

CHAPTER  V. 
1856-1857. 

THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  AT  ALEXANDRIA,  VIRGINIA.  —  NATURE 
AND  EXTENT  OF  HIS  READING.  —  EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE- 
BOOK   144 

CHAPTER  VI. 
1857-1858. 

SECOND  YEAR  AT  THE  ALEXANDRIA  SEMINARY.  —  EXPERIENCE  OP 
LIFE  IN  VIRGINIA.  —  HOME  LETTERS 197 

CHAPTER  VII. 
1857-1858. 

THE  INTELLECTUAL  PREPARATION,  THE  MORAL  IDEAL,  CON- 
VERSION.—  EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOK 217 


xvi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  VIIL 
1858-1859. 

LAST  YEAR  IN  THE  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY.  —  APPOINTMENT  AS 
TEACHER  IN  THE  PREPARATORY  DEPARTMENT.  —  THE  FIRST 
SERMON.  —  ORDINATION.  — CALL  TO  THE  CHURCH  or  THE  AD- 
VENT IN  PHILADELPHIA 268 

CHAPTER  IX. 
1859. 

RETROSPECT  or  THE  LIFE  IN  VIRGINIA.  —  THE  EVANGELICAL 
INFLUENCE.  —  DR.  SPARROW  AS  A  TEACHER.  —  THEOLOGICAL 
ESSAYS.  —  EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOK 302 

CHAPTER  X. 

1859-1860. 

FIRST  TEAR  IN  THE  MINISTRY.  —  CHURCH  or  THE  ADVENT, 
PHILADELPHIA. — EARLY  RECOGNITION  OF  HIS  POWER  AS  A 
PREACHER.  —  EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOK 330 

CHAPTER  XI. 
1860-1861. 

BEGINNING  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR.  —  THE  CALL  TO  THE  CHURCH 
OF  THE  HOLY  TRINITY  IN  PHILADELPHIA 353 

CHAPTER  XII. 
January  to  August,  1862. 

THE  FIRST  YEAR  AT  THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  HOLY  TRINITY. — 
DISTRACTIONS  OF  PARISH  WORK.  —  THE  NEW  DIVINITY 
SCHOOL.  —  VISIT  TO  NIAGARA 386 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
September  to  December,  1862. 

THE  CIVIL  WAR.  —  LINCOLN'S  PROCLAMATION.  —  THE  FAMILY 
LIFE.  —  GENERAL  CONVENTION  OF  THE  EPISCOPAL  CHURCH  .  409 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
1863. 

DEATH  OF  GEORGE  BROOKS.  —  PARISH  WORK.  —  CLERICAL  SOCI- 
ETY.—  THREATENED  INVASION  OF  PHILADELPHIA.  —  SUMMER 


CONTENTS  xvii 

IN  THE  WHITE  MOUNTAINS.  —  PROTEST  AGAINST  BISHOP  HOP- 
KINS'S  BIBLE  ARGUMENT  FOR  SLAVERY.  —  INTEREST  IN  THE 
FREEDMEN.  —  THANKSGIVING  SERMON 437 

CHAPTER   XV. 

1864. 

CALL  TO  A  PROFESSORSHIP  IN  THE  PHILADELPHIA  DIVINITY 
SCHOOL.  —  EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOK.  —  SPEECHES  IN  BE- 
HALF OF  NEGRO  SUFFRAGE  .  .  , 481 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 


PHILLIPS  BROOKS  AT  THE  AGE  OF  TWENTY-TWO.    Photogravure. 

Frontispiece 
THE  PHILLIPS  FAMILY  OF  ANDOVER,  ancestors  of  Phillips  Brooks. 

Photogravure 16 

THE  PHILLIPS  HOUSE  AT  NORTH  ANDOVER,  INTERIOR  ....      30 
PHILLIPS  BROOKS  IN  HIS  JUNIOR  YEAR  AT  HARVARD,  AT  THE  AGE 

OF  EIGHTEEN.     Photogravure 84 

THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  AT  ALEXANDRIA,  VIRGINIA,  AS  IT  AP- 
PEARED IN  1855 188 

FACSIMILE  OF  A  PAGE  FROM  NOTE-BOOK,  1857 240 

CHURCH  OF  THE  ADVENT,  PHILADELPHIA,  EXTERIOR    ....    330 
CHURCH  OF  THE  ADVENT,  PHILADELPHIA,  INTERIOR.    Represent- 
ing the  chancel  somewhat  changed  from  its  aspect  in  1859      .     .     376 
PHILLIPS  BROOKS  AND  HIS  MOTHER,  from  family  group  in  1862. 

Photogravure 422 

CHURCH  OF  THE  HOLY  TRINITY,  PHILADELPHIA,  INTERIOR    .    .    448 
WILLIAM  GRAY  BROOKS,  the  father  of  Phillips  Brooks.     Photo- 
gravure      520 


THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

PHILLIPS  BROOKS 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  ANCESTRY 


THE  founder  of  the  Phillips  family  was  the  Rev.  George 
Phillips,  who  was  born  in  1593  at  Raymond,  Norfolk 
County,  England.1  He  came  to  this  country  in  1630,  land- 
ing at  Salem  on  the  twelfth  day  of  June.  In  the  same 
ship,  the  Arbella,  came  Governor  John  Winthrop,  Sir  Rich- 
ard Saltonstall,  Simon  Bradstreet,  Isaac  Johnson,  and  others. 
His  age  when  he  left  England  was  thirty-seven,  and  for  four- 
teen years  he  served  the  colony.  Shortly  after  landing  he 
lost  his  wife,  worn  out  with  the  fatigues  of  the  voyage,  and 
buried  her  by  the  side  of  the  Lady  Arbella  Johnson,  in  whose 
honor  the  ship  which  brought  them  had  been  named.  Our 
knowledge  of  George  Phillips  is  slight,  but  the  few  details  of 
his  career  point  to  a  man  of  no  ordinary  importance  and  in- 
fluence. His  unusual  promise  as  a  child  justified  his  parents 
iu  sending  him  to  the  University,  where  he  became  distin- 
guished for  his  attainments.  His  highest  proficiency  was  in 
theology.  He  took  orders  in  the  Church  of  England,  and 

1  Among  the  allusions  of  Phillips  Brooks  to  his  ancestors,  there  is  one  to  the 
Rev.  George  Phillips,  given  in  his  Letters  of  Travel,  p.  116.  He  was  writing 
near  the  English  neighborhood  from  which  they  had  emigrated,  and  adds  this 
remark :  "  Perhaps  I  have  got  them  a  little  mixed  up,  but  all  those  facts  were 
among  the  household  words  of  our  childhood." 


i  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1630 

became  "an  able  and  faithful  minister  of  the  gospel,"  whether 
at  Boxsted,  in  Essex  County,  or  at  Boxford,  in  Suffolk,  is 
uncertain,  owing  to  confusion  among  the  chroniclers.  He 
got  into  difficulty  on  account  of  his  nonconformist  principles, 
his  friends  supporting  him  on  the  ground  that  "  he  preached 
nothing  without  some  good  evidence  for  it  in  the  word  of 
God."  When  the  storm  of  religious  persecution  grew  dark 
and  threatening,  he  threw  in  his  lot  with  the  Puritans,  who 
sought  relief  in  the  emigration  to  New  England.  That  he 
was  held  in  high  esteem  by  his  friends,  is  shown  in  the  cir- 
cumstance that  the  emigration  expenses  of  himself  and  his 
family  were  borne  by  the  company,  and  it  is  also  said  that 
he  came  at  their  solicitation. 

On  board  the  ship  he  assumed  the  office  of  pastor,  preach- 
ing daily  and  catechising  the  passengers.  He  was  one  of 
those  who  signed  his  name  to  the  famous  Farewell  Address  to 
the  members  of  the  Church  of  England,  where  it  was  spoken 
of  as  a  true  church,  to  which  went  forth  the  affectionate  re- 
gards and  well  wishes  of  those  who  were  in  reality  leaving  its 
fold.  It  was  done  in  good  faith,  there  can  be  no  doubt.  But 
the  Church  of  England  which  they  apostrophized  was  not 
identified  in  their  minds  with  its  organization  or  its  worship. 
They  were  rather  invoking  the  angel  of  the  church,  the  per- 
sonification of  its  ideal  purpose  as  they  themselves  conceived 
it.  In  that  church  they  had  been  born  again,  from  it  they 
drew  their  faith,  their  Christian  nurture.  Within  its  fold 
they  left  behind  their  friends  and  kindred.  As  to  what 
should  be  the  true  organization,  discipline,  and  worship  of  the 
church,  their  views  were  already  formed,  before  they  ap- 
pended their  names  to  the  Farewell  Address ;  and  when  they 
arrived  at  their  destination,  they  were  not  slow  in  putting 
them  into  execution. 

The  newcomers  in  Winthrop's  fleet  soon  separated  for  the 
purpose  of  establishing  new  plantations  with  independent 
churches.  One  of  these  parties  sailed  up  the  Charles  River 
in  1630,  and  landing  on  its  banks  selected  a  spot  for  their 
home,  to  which  the  name  of  Watertown  was  given  in  the 
same  year,  1630,  by  the  Court  of  Assistants.  Over  the 


1835]  THE  ANCESTRY  3 

church  at  Watertown  Mr.  Phillips  was  placed  at  once  as 
pastor,  at  a  salary  of  thirty  pounds  a  year.  In  1631  he  was 
admitted  a  freeman,  eighty  acres  being  assigned  to  him,  a 
larger  territory  than  to  other  freemen,  hi  recognition  of  his 
clerical  rank,  which  also  appears  to  have  been  exempt  from 
taxation.  Here  he  labored  for  fourteen  years,  a  man  promi- 
nent in  town  affairs,  but  especially  devoted  to  the  interests 
of  religion  and  the  church. 

It  is  difficult  now  to  determine  and  distinguish  his  influ- 
ence upon  the  colony  as  compared  with  other  great  leaders; 
but  that  he  exerted  a  deep  influence  in  the  formative  process 
of  both  church  and  state  is  clear.  In  the  work  of  reorgan- 
izing the  church  in  New  England  he  took  a  decided  part. 
His  views  were  at  first  thought  to  be  novel  and  extreme,  but 
they  were  ultimately  accepted  and  became  known  as  Congre- 
gationalism. His  ideas  of  church  policy  were  illustrated  by 
his  action  when  in  1639  Rev.  John  Knowles  was  ordained  at 
Watertown  to  be  the  associate  or  second  pastor  of  the  church. 
Mr.  Phillips,  who  must  have  officiated  at  the  ordination, 
gave  no  notice  to  the  neighboring  churches  or  to  the  magis- 
trates. This  was  independency,  pure  and  simple,  yet  it  was 
regarded  by  many  at  the  time  as  a  "censurable  anomaly," 
for  there  were  those  in  the  colony  who  held  to  a  Presbyterian 
view  of  ordination,  in  which  the  clergy  of  other  parishes 
should  share.  On  the  other  hand,  he  defied  the  princi- 
ples of  the  Independents  when  he  went  to  the  First  Church 
in  Boston  and  administered  the  ordinances  in  the  absence 
of  its  pastor ;  for  it  was  a  principle  of  Independency  that  it 
denied  this  right  to  any  minister  except  in  the  church  over 
which  he  was  placed.  These  two  features  in  Mr.  Phillips's 
ecclesiastical  polity  were  still  regarded,  it  is  said,  with  mis- 
givings, until  the  Eev.  John  Cotton  came  to  Boston,  "who 
by  his  preaching  and  practice  did  by  degrees  mould  all  their 
church  administration  into  the  very  same  form,  which  Mr. 
Phillips  labored  to  have  introduced  into  the  church  before." 

Mr.  Phillips  also  denied  the  validity  of  his  ordination  by 
bishops  in  the  Church  of  England.  When  he  assumed 
charge  of  the  church  in  Watertown,  he  stated  to  his  congre- 


4  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1630 

gation  that  "if  they  would  have  him  stand  minister  by  that 
calling  which  he  received  from  the  prelates  of  England  he 
would  leave  them."1  If  this  seems  to  point  to  narrow- 
ness and  bigotry,  yet  on  the  other  hand  when  Elder  Browne 
in  his  congregation  maintained  that  the  Church  of  Rome  was 
a  true  church,  he  was  supported  by  his  pastor.  Something 
of  a  storm  or  flurry  happened  in  consequence,  so  that  in  1631 
the  governor,  the  deputy  governor,  and  others,  went  to 
Watertown  for  a  conference.  Elder  Browne  was  not  con- 
vinced, and  the  court  took  up  the  matter.  The  people  of 
Watertown  were  greatly  divided  in  opinion.  When  the 
governor  offered  the  alternative  to  the  church,  of  proceeding 
in  the  case  in  their  capacity  as  magistrates,  or  as  members  of 
a  neighboring  congregation,  Mr.  Phillips  selected  the  latter 
method,  guarding,  it  is  thought,  in  a  jealous  way  against 
encroachments  on  the  liberties  of  his  church.  Somehow  a 
kind  of  reconciliation  was  reached,  and  both  sides  agreed  to 
a  day  of  humiliation  and  prayer. 

Mr.  Phillips  was  not  only  jealous  of  the  religious  liberty, 
but  of  the  political.  When  Governor  Winthrop  and  the 
Assistants  polled  an  order  to  tax  the  people  without  their 
consent,  Mr.  Phillips,  with  Elder  Browne,  called  them  to- 
gether and  delivered  their  opinion  that  "it  was  dangerous  to 
submit  to  it."  This  view  prevailed ;  for  before  another  tax 
was  attempted  it  was  decided  that  "two  of  every  plantation 
be  appointed  to  confer  with  the  court."2  Such  are  some  of 
the  pictures  in  the  life  of  Rev.  George  Phillips  which  reveal 
the  man.  He  may  not  have  been  in  advance  of  his  age  in 
his  views  of  religious  liberty,  but  he  was  large-minded,  with 
more  foresight,  more  alive  than  many  of  his  contemporaries. 
It  was  an  age  when  what  we  call  superstition  still  existed. 
According  to  Governor  Winthrop,  there  was  at  Watertown  in 
these  early  years  "  a  great  combat,  seen  by  divers  witnesses, 
between  a  mouse  and  a  snake;  and  after  a  long  fight,  the 
mouse  prevailed  and  killed  the  snake."  But  it  was  not  the 

1  Hubbard :  History  of  New  England,  p.  186.     Francis :  Historical  Sketch  of 
Watertown. 
*  Bond  :  Family  Memorial*,  it  p.  873. 


1835]  THE  ANCESTRY  5 

pastor  of  the  church  at  Watertown,  it  was  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Wilson,  pastor  of  the  First  Church  in  Boston,  who  gave  the 
interpretation,  that  "  the  snake  was  the  devil ;  the  mouse  was 
a  poor  contemptible  people,  which  God  had  brought  hither, 
which  should  overcome  Satan  here  and  dispossess  him  of  his 
kingdom."1 

For  the  rest,  the  Rev.  George  Phillips  was  a  good  preacher, 
versed  in  the  Latin,  Greek,  and  Hebrew  languages,  reading 
through  the  Scriptures  six  times  in  the  course  of  every  year. 
At  his  death,  which  was  sudden,  in  the  year  1644,  he  had  at- 
tained the  age  of  fifty -one.  He  was  lamented  as  one  beloved 
as  well  as  respected.  Winthrop  said  of  him  in  his  journal, 
"a  godly  man,  specially  gifted,  and  very  peaceful  in  his 
place,  much  lamented  of  his  own  people  and  others."  His 
first  house  in  Watertown,  it  is  supposed  on  good  evidence, 
stood  near  the  Cambridge  line  on  the  road  from  Cambridge 
to  Watertown,  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  road  and  near 
the  ancient  burying-ground.  The  inventory  of  his  property 
amounted  to  £553,  "the  study  of  books  "  to  £11  9s.  9d. 

George  Phillips  left  a  son,  Samuel,  nineteen  years  old  at 
his  father's  death,  a  graduate  of  Harvard  College  in  1650. 
The  story  that  he  was  educated  at  the  expense  of  the  church 
in  Watertown,  as  a  tribute  of  respect  to  his  father,  has  been 
questioned  on  the  ground  that  his  father  left  behind  him 
sufficient  property  to  make  such  an  act  superfluous.  This 
Samuel  Phillips  was  settled  over  the  church  at  Rowley,  in 
Massachusetts,  where  "he  labored  with  great  acceptance  "  for 
forty-five  years,  till  his  death  in  1696.  That  his  position  was 
an  honored  one  is  further  evident  from  his  appointment  to 
preach  the  election  sermon  before  the  General  Court  in  1678. 
That  his  character  was  a  strong  one,  leading  him  to  speak 
out,  at  the  expense  of  persecution  and  imprisonment,  is 
shown,  so  it  is  said,  "from  his  calling  Randolph  a  wicked 
man."  Of  his  wife  it  is  said  that  she  was  "an  early  seeker 
for  God,  spending  much  of  her  time  in  reading  the  word  and 
in  prayer,  and  taking  great  care  of  her  children's  souls." 
She  also,  it  is  added,  "knew  the  time  of  her  conversion."  In 
1  Francis:  Watertown,  p.  26. 


6  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1630 

his  later  years,  Phillips  Brooks  paid  his  tribute  to  these  an- 
cestors at  Rowley,  visiting  the  old  town  for  the  purpose  of 
making  their  life  more  real  to  his  imagination.  It  may  seem 
unnecessary  to  remark,  but  it  has  its  significance  in  tracing 
a  Puritan  descent,  that  his  inventory  amounted  to  £989.  In 
Mather's  epitaph  upon  father  and  son,  he  is  compared  with 
his  father  as  his  highest  honor :  — 

Hio  jacet  Georgius  Phillippi 

Vir  inoomparabilis  nisi  Samuelem  gtnuisset. 

This  Samuel  Phillips  of  Rowley  had  a  son,  George,  who 
graduated  at  Harvard  in  1686,  but  left  Massachusetts  for 
Long  Island,  where  he  died.  Of  him  it  was  remarked  by 
some  that  "in  addition  to  his  solid  talents  he  possessed  a 
happy  vein  of  wit  and  humor  that  rendered  his  company  and 
conversation  always  agreeable."  But  the  verdict  of  others 
was  that  while  esteemed  a  good  man,  "he  indulged  too  much 
in  wit  and  drollery  to  maintain  well  the  dignity  of  his  profes- 
sion." He  is  mentioned  here  because  he  followed  the  profes- 
sion of  his  father.  There  was  another  son,  older  than  this 
George,  in  whom  the  line  of  descent  is  to  be  followed.  Sam- 
uel Phillips  of  Salem,  son  of  Samuel  of  Rowley,  and  grand- 
son of  George  Phillips,  became  a  goldsmith,  instead  of  a 
clergyman,  but  he  married  a  clergyman's  daughter,  Mary 
Emerson  of  Gloucester,  who  brought  into  the  family  a  strong 
intellectual  and  religious  influence.  She  became  the  mother 
of  two  sons,  the  elder  of  whom  was  the  Rev.  Samuel  Phillips, 
minister  of  the  South  Church  in  Andover,  a  man  of  "strik- 
ing individuality  and  energy  of  character,"  who  deserves  a 
fuller  mention. 

Samuel  Phillips,  then,  of  the  fourth  generation,  was  born 
in  1689,  and  graduated  from  Harvard  College  in  1708. 
With  him  begins  the  connection  of  the  Phillips  family  with 
Andover.  At  the  age  of  twenty -two,  in  the  year  1711,  he 
was  ordained  there,  minister  of  the  South  Church  or  parish, 
holding  that  office  for  sixty-two  years.  In  appearance,  as 
represented  by  his  portrait,  there  is  dignity,  the  conscious- 
ness of  power,  the  sense  of  mastery  of  the  situation,  repose 
also,  security,  as  if  he  rested  upon  the  rock  of  great  convic- 


1835]  THE  ANCESTRY  7 

tions,  a  certain  masculine  aggressive  quality,  nothing  intro- 
versive,  but  the  air  of  one  who  maintains  and  rejoices  in 
things  as  they  are.  He  is  the  representative  of  the  spirit  of 
the  eighteenth  century.  He  married  Hannah  White,  daugh- 
ter of  the  "worshipful  John  White  of  Haverhill." 

When  they  went  to  meeting  on  Sunday,  Madame  Phillips 
walked,  leaning  on  her  husband's  arm,  from  the  parsonage  to  the 
meeting-house,  Mr.  Phillips  having  his  negro  man  at  his  right 
hand  and  Madame  Phillips  her  negro  maidservant  on  her  left 
hand.  The  family  followed  them  in  procession,  according  to  age. 
The  male  members  of  the  congregation,  who  had  been  standing 
outside,  as  soon  as  the  minister's  family  appeared,  hastened  into 
the  meeting-house,  and  when  the  pastor  entered,  the  congregation 
arose  and  remained  standing  till  he  reached  the  pulpit  and  took 
his  seat.  Also  at  the  close  of  the  service  the  congregation  stood 
until  the  pastor  and  family  had  passed  out.1 

He  turned  his  hourglass  at  the  beginning  of  his  sermon 
and  concluded  it  as  the  last  sands  ran  out.  He  was  a  vigor- 
ous preacher,  discussing  fearlessly  the  issues  of  his  time. 
Many  of  his  sermons  were  published  as  deserving  a  larger 
audience.2  He  was  bold  in  reproving  his  congregation, 
especially  for  that  peculiar  offence,  common  then,  as  it  is  not 
unknown  to-day,  the  tendency  to  be  overcome  by  somnolence 
in  public  worship.  There  had  been  an  alarming  earthquake 
in  1755 ;  this  he  improved  in  his  discourse,  as  a  warning  to 
those  sleeping  away  great  part  of  sermon  time.  But  since 
the  glorious  Lord  of  the  Sabbath  has  given  them  such  a  shak- 
ing of  late,  he  hopes  to  see  no  more  sleepers  in  sermon  time.8 
At  a  time  when  Arminianism  was  coming  into  vogue,  destined 
to  undermine  the  convictions  of  many  regarding  the  tenets  of 

1  Historical  Sketches  of  Andover,  p.  446. 

2  Here  is  the  title-page  of  one  of  these  sermons  which  were  printed  :  — 

"  A  Word  in  Season,  or  the  Duty  of  People  to  take  and  keep  the  Oath  of  Al- 
legiance to  the  glorious  God.  Exhibited  in  a  Plain  Discourse  had  (in  part)  at 
Byfield  on  Septembers,  1726,  by  Samuel  Phillips,  M.  A,  Pastor  to  a  Church  in 
Andover.  Published  at  the  request  of  many  of  the  Inhabitants  of  Rowley  and 
Byfield.  And  recommended  by  many  Ministers.  1  Kings  xviii.  21. 

"  Boston  :  Printed  by  S.  Kneeland  and  T.  Green  for  John  Phillips  at  his  shop 
on  the  South  Side  of  the  Town  house.  1737." 

8  History  of  Andover,  p.  446. 


8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1630 

the  ancient  Puritan  creed,  he  remained  steadfast  in  adher- 
ence to  the  Westminster  Catechism,  a  decided,  zealous  Cal- 
vinist,  laboring  by  preaching  and  by  writing  to  indoctrinate 
and  confirm  his  people  in  the  faith ;  but  he  also,  it  is  said, 
could  be  tolerant  of  those  who  differed  from  him ;  he  main- 
tained "  fellowship  with  the  neighboring  clergy  of  a  looser 
and  dangerous  creed." 

An  illustration  is  given  of  his  attitude  on  the  ethical  issues 
of  life,  of  no  slight  significance  as  revealing  the  spirit  of  the 
age.  The  records  of  the  church  in  Andover  contain  cases  of 
discipline  for  immorality  and  drunkenness,  as  do  the  parish 
records  of  so  many  of  the  churches  in  the  eighteenth  century. 
There  was  another  sin  of  rare  occurrence,  against  which  he 
delivered  a  sermon,  so  entirely  to  the  mind  of  his  congrega- 
tion that  its  publication  was  requested.  A  certain  member 
of  his  parish,  of  unblemished  character,  gentle  and  sensitive, 
became  despondent,  fell  into  melancholia,  and  died  by  his  own 
hand.  "His  name,"  said  the  pastor,  "as  many  think  had 
best  be  buried  in  oblivion,  for  he  yielded  to  the  temptation 
of  the  enemy  of  souls,  kept  the  devil's  counsel  concealed,  nor 
did  any  person  suspect  that  he  was  under  the  said  tempta- 
tion, until,  being  missed,  he  was  found  hanging  in  his  own 
barn."  The  sermon  appeared  in  print  with  "a  ghastly 
title-page,  headed  with  skull  and  crossbones  and  bordered 
with  black.  The  preacher  warned  his  hearers  not  to  visit 
the  offence  upon  his  innocent  relatives.  But  the  feeling  in 
the  parish  was  so  strong  that  he  was  refused  burial  in  the 
graveyard  of  the  Old  South  Church,  and  was  laid  in  a  lonely 
grave  in  the  farm  under  an  oak  tree,  and  his  name  was  no 
more  mentioned  even  in  his  own  family." 

For  the  rest,  this  Rev.  Samuel  Phillips  left  a  deep  impres- 
sion on  his  people.  He  was  specially  diligent  in  commending 
the  usage  of  family  devotions.  He  was  a  man  orderly  and 
industrious  in  his  habits,  he  had  the  Puritan  habit  of  econ- 
omy, carrying  it  so  far  as  to  blow  out  the  candle  when  he 
knelt  for  the  evening  prayer.  He  insisted  on  the  punctual 
payment  of  his  salary,  even  though  "he  had  means  of  his 
own."  He  went  to  Andover  too  late  to  receive  an  assign- 


1835]  THE  ANCESTRY  9 

ment  of  land  in  the  town,  but  a  large  territory  was  given  him 
in  what  was  then  the  wilderness  of  New  Hampshire,  in  the 
neighborhood  of  what  is  now  Concord.  But  if  he  pursued  a 
close  economy,  he  was  also  charitable,  giving  away  one  tenth 
of  his  income.  He  had  need  of  economy,  for  he  educated  his 
three  sons  at  Harvard  College.  He  died  in  possession  of  a 
considerable  property,  as  the  times  then  went. 

These  were  his  sons,  —  Samuel,  the  eldest,  then  John,  and 
William.  John  settled  at  Exeter,  and  will  be  alluded  to 
again;  William  went  to  Boston,  where  he  became  a  prosper- 
ous merchant.  Both  these  sons  accumulated  large  property, 
they  stood  high  in  the  people's  regard,  and  were  honored  by 
high  offices,  living  not  for  themselves,  but  for  the  public 
welfare.  Much  might  be  said  of  them,  especially  of  their 
religious  purpose,  but  the  line  of  descent  of  Phillips  Brooks 
is  with  the  eldest  son,  Samuel  (1715-1790).  He  remained 
in  Andover,  in  what  is  now  North  Andover,  where  he  went 
into  business,  and  he  too  accumulated,  as  a  true  Puritan  of 
the  time  could  not  help  doing,  riches  and  wealth  as  well  as 
public  honor.  A  letter  to  him  from  his  father  is  preserved, 
revealing  the  father's  principles  and  methods,  the  secret  also 
to  some  extent  of  the  son's  success.  It  illustrates  religion  in 
common  life,  amplifying  the  apostle's  injunction  to  be  diligent 
in  business,  while  serving  the  Lord. 

Sept.  27,  1738. 
ANDOVEB,  SOUTH  PARISH. 

As  to  your  trading,  keep  fair  and  true  accounts  and  do  wrong 
to  no  man ;  but  sell  as  cheap  to  a  child  as  you  would  to  one  that 
is  adult;  never  take  advantage  of  any,  either  because  of  their 
Ignorance  or  their  Poverty ;  for  if  you  do,  it  will  not  turn  to  your 
own  advantage ;  but  ye  contrary.  And  as  you  may  not  wrong 
eny  person,  so  neither  wrong  ye  Truth  in  any  case  whatever  for 
ye  sake  of  gain  or  from  any  other  motive.  Either  be  silent  or 
else  speak  ye  Truth. 

And  be  prudent,  but  yet  not  over  timorous  and  over  scrupulous 
in  ye  article  of  Trusting,  lest  you  stand  in  your  own  light.  Some 
people  are  more  honest  p'haps  than  you  think  for  and  it  may  be 
wil  pay  sooner  than  you  expect.  Keep  to  your  shop  if  you  ex- 
pect that  to  keep  to  you  and  be  not  out  of  ye  way  when  customers 
come. 


io  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1630 

This  Samuel  Phillips  of  North  Andover  graduated  from 
Harvard  College  in  1734,  marrying  Elizabeth  Barnard,  a 
granddaughter  of  the  Rev.  John  Barnard,  who  came  as  a 
bride  with  "a  considerable  fortune."  Mr.  Phillips  was 
dowered  with  the  title  of  Honorable  in  virtue  of  his  member- 
ship in  the  House  of  Representatives  and  in  the  Council  of 
the  Commonwealth.  It  was  he  who  built  what  is  now  the 
old  homestead  in  North  Andover.  But  he  entered  it  with 
sadness,  and  it  never  resounded  to  him  with  the  mirth  of  chil- 
dren, for  of  the  many  whom  God  had  given  him  only  one  son 
survived,  the  others  dying  in  infancy.  His  portrait  is  in 
profile,  bespeaking  a  man  subdued  by  affliction,  yet  it  is  also 
a  beautiful  face,  showing  great  refinement  and  tenderness  of 
character,  a  graceful,  well-shaped  head,  reappearing  to  some 
extent,  profile  and  form  of  head,  in  Phillips  Brooks. 

Samuel  Phillips  of  North  Andover,  who  built  the  old 
manse,  as  it  has  been  called,  left  one  son,  bearing  the  same 
name,  who  is  known  as  Judge  Phillips  (1752-1802).  He  re- 
presents the  family  in  the  sixth  generation,  and  is  the  great- 
grandfather of  Phillips  Brooks.  It  is  impossible  to  speak  of 
him  briefly,  for  his  life  was  full  to  overflowing  with  purposes 
and  results  accomplished,  an  extraordinary  career  marked 
by  an  intense,  unfailing  activity.  In  his  day  he  was  one  of 
the  foremost  men,  in  church  and  state,  good  as  well  as  great, 
the  full  flower  of  Puritanism  unveiling  its  inmost  mood  and 
capacity.  His  Memoir,  written  by  the  late  Dr.  J.  L.  Taylor 
of  Andover  Theological  Seminary,  and  published  by  the  Con- 
gregational Board  of  Publication,  is  one  long  and  elaborate 
eulogy  upon  his  virtues.  It  is  difficult  to  see  how  it  could 
have  been  otherwise,  for  to  speak  of  him  was  to  praise 
him. 

We  get  the  first  picture  of  him  as  the  solitary  child  in  the 
house  at  North  Andover,  the  only  surviving  child  of  seven 
children,  tended  with  care  and  solicitude.  The  sadness  of 
the  household  brooded  over  him,  making  him  prematurely 
grave  and  mature.  That  great  truth  to  which  Puritanism 
gave  additional  emphasis,  the  sacredness  of  time,  the  neces- 
sity of  improving  each  passing  moment,  was  of  course 


1 835]  THE   ANCESTRY  n 

instilled  into  him  from  his  infancy,  but  he  learned  the  lesson 
with  an  intensity  surpassing  his  ancestors.  In  preparing  for 
college  he  went  to  Byfield  Academy,  then,  in  1767,  entered 
Harvard,  which  had  become  the  family  tradition,  as  indis- 
pensable as  the  church  or  the  state  for  the  development  of 
a  noble  life.  When  he  graduated,  it  is  interesting  to  note 
that  he  was  greatly  concerned  about  giving  an  entertainment 
or  "spread  "  which  should  adequately  represent  his  own  and 
the  family  dignity.  To  this  request  for  money  the  father 
readily  responded  that  it  should  be  all  that  he  desired.  His 
standing  as  a  scholar  was  among  the  highest  in  his  class,  for 
his  diligence  had  been  unremitting  and  his  natural  ability 
was  great.  At  the  Commencement  he  gave  the  Salutatory 
Oration  in  Latin,  according  to  the  custom.  But  in  those 
days  the  students  were  not  marked  according  to  scholarship 
alone ;  there  was  a  social  standard,  apparently  of  higher  im- 
portance, the  relic  of  an  aristocratic  sentiment  before  the 
levelling  influence  had  prevailed  of  the  French  Revolution. 
According  to  this  standard,  in  a  class  of  sixty  in  the  year 
1771,  the  largest  class  which  had  yet  been  graduated  at  Har- 
vard, his  rank  was  eighth.  His  father,  dissatisfied  equally 
with  his  son  at  what  seemed  an  injustice  in  the  rank  assigned, 
came  down  from  Andover  to  see  the  president  of  the  college 
and  insist  on  the  rectification  of  the  mistake.  A  change  was 
accordingly  made,  and  he  was  given  the  seventh  place.  In 
his  days  the  Institute  was  founded,  and  he  became  its  first 
president.  Although  he  threw  himself  into  college  life  with 
great  ardor,  yet  the  religious  question  was  most  prominently 
before  his  mind;  the  primary  issue  to  be  adjusted  was  his 
personal  relationship  with  God,  the  consciousness  of  whom 
had  waited  upon  all  his  years.  There  was  anxiety  and  doubt 
and  struggle,  till  he  entered  into  peace  in  1770,  joining  the 
church  at  North  Andover,  where  his  father  was  a  deacon. 

The  romance  of  his  life  occurred  in  his  college  days.  The 
young  woman  of  his  choice  was  Phoebe  Foxcroft  of  Cam- 
bridge, to  whom  the  only  objection  that  could  be  made  was 
her  age,  for  she  was  nearly  nine  years  his  senior.  The  father 
and  mother  at  Andover  strenuously  resisted,  but  things  took 


12  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1630 

their  usual  course;  the  beloved  and  only  son,  with  his  deli- 
cate constitution,  became  ill,  the  consent  was  reluctantly 
given,  and  in  1773  the  marriage  took  place.  It  was  no  mis- 
fortune for  the  family  when  Phoebe  Fozcroft  entered  it.  She 
brought  with  her  accessions  of  character  and  intellectual  gifts 
as  well  as  of  wealth.  In  reality  she  was  younger  than  her 
husband  in  all  relating  to  temperament  and  constitutional 
vivacity.  She  had  the  cheerful  mind  and  graces  of  manner 
which  offset  his  prevailing  seriousness.  She  survived  her 
husband  eleven  years,  to  carry  out  after  he  was  gone  one  of 
the  great  purposes  of  his  life. 

The  career  of  Judge  Phillips  was  so  full  of  attendance 
upon  purely  secular  affairs,  that  this  aspect  of  it  alone  would 
have  sufficed  to  distinguish  the  lives  of  most  of  his  contem- 
poraries. "He  had  a  primary  agency  in  all  the  measures  of 
the  state  for  nearly  thirty  years."  In  his  personal  affairs  he 
gave,  says  one  of  his  eulogists,  "  incredible  attentions  to 
business."  The  war  for  American  independence  began  when 
he  was  twenty-five.  Already  while  in  college  he  shared  in  the 
growth  of  sentiment  and  enthusiasm  precipitating  hostilities. 
In  the  early  years  of  the  war  he  strove  with  characteristic 
energy  and  enterprise  to  overcome  the  chief  lack  embarrass- 
ing the  American  army,  by  erecting  a  mill  at  Andover  for 
the  manufacture  of  gunpowder.  His  many  activities,  his 
posts  of  public  honor  and  trust,  can  only  be  briefly  enumer- 
ated, but  the  simple  record  is  an  astonishing  one.  In  addi- 
tion to  the  powder-mill,  he  owned  and  supervised  a  saw-mill, 
and  grist-mill,  and  a  paper-mill.  He  had  extensive  shops  for 
the  sale  of  merchandise  in  Andover  and  Methuen,  over  which 
he  kept  a  watchful  eye.  His  many  business  interests  flour- 
ished, bringing  him  a  large  income.  This  would  have  been 
enough,  one  might  suppose,  to  occupy  the  attention  of  one 
man,  but  in  addition  to  all  this  he  assumed  large  public  re- 
sponsibilities. He  was  a  delegate  from  Andover  to  the  Con- 
stitutional Convention  in  1779.  In  a  select  committee  of 
thirty -one  he  aided  in  preparing  a  "frame  of  government 
and  declaration  of  rights."  When  the  Constitution  had  been 
adopted  he  was  elected  into  the  Senate,  where  he  continued 


1835]  THE  ANCESTRY  13 

for  twenty  years,  and  for  fifteen  years  was  its  president.  In 
the  famous  Shays'  rebellion  he  was  appointed  one  of  three 
commissioners  to  deal  with  the  disaffected  and  disappointed 
party.  For  sixteen  years  he  was  one  of  the  judges  of  the 
Essex  Court  of  Common  Pleas.  In  the  year  before  his  death 
he  was  elected  lieutenant-governor  of  the  Commonwealth  of 
Massachusetts.  He  was  an  overseer  of  Harvard  College  for 
twenty  years,  receiving  from  it  in  1793  the  degree  of  LL.  D. 
He  was  one  of  the  original  members  of  the  American  Acad- 
emy of  Arts  and  Sciences. 

But  this  combination  of  rare  business  capacity  with  high 
statesmanship  does  not  exhaust  the  catalogue  of  his  useful- 
ness in  his  day  and  generation.  His  supreme  effort  was 
devoted  to  the  cause  of  learning  and  of  religion.  As  the 
projector  and  practically  the  founder  of  the  Phillips  Andover 
Academy,  he  is  most  widely  and  deservedly  known.  His 
sense  of  the  need  of  such  an  institution  dates  back  to  the 
time  when  he  experienced  difficulty  in  preparing  for  college 
at  Byfield  Academy.  This  devotion  to  the  cause  of  learning 
and  high  scholarship  was  inherited  in  his  Puritan  blood.  It 
had  entered  into  Puritanism  from  the  first  as  a  constituent 
element  that  the  learning  of  its  adherents  should  be  the  very 
best,  the  widest,  the  deepest,  the  most  thorough  that  could 
be  obtained.  Judge  Phillips  embodied  this  aspiration,  he 
became  the  pioneer  of  the  system  which  has  given  to  America 
its  classical  schools.  It  was  in  1777  that  he  first  moved  in 
the  matter  dearest  to  his  heart.  Here,  we  may  believe,  lay 
the  secret  of  his  devotion  to  business,  —  an  ideal  purpose  was 
to  be  subserved.  The  rolling  up  of  wealth  was  not  an  end  in 
itself.  His  father's  fortune  would  be  his  own,  he  was  the 
heir  of  a  rich  and  childless  uncle,  Dr.  John  Phillips,  living 
at  Exeter.  His  disinterestedness  is  shown  in  his  willingness 
to  dispossess  himself  of  the  property  virtually  his  own.  He 
laid  the  scheme  which  he  had  devised  before  his  father 
and  his  uncle,  calling  for  their  contributions  in  order  to  its 
achievement.  To  another  uncle,  Hon.  William  Phillips  of 
Boston,  he  appealed  with  equal  success.  The  joint  contribu- 
tions of  his  father  and  his  two  uncles  constituted  the  founda- 


14  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1630 

tion  of  the  Phillips  Academy  in  Andover.  Judge  Phillips 
was  a  young  man  of  twenty -five  when  he  conceived  this  great 
plan  of  his  life.  He  had  his  own  fortune  yet  to  make  at  the 
moment  when  he  was  diverting  the  property  that  would  have 
been  his  into  another  channel.  As  his  own  means  increased 
he  used  them  freely  for  the  same  end.  He  devoted  his 
energy,  his  time,  his  thoughts,  to  perfecting  the  organization 
and  constitution  of  the  academy  till  its  equipment  should  be 
complete.  His  scheme  embraced  the  purchase  of  the  whole 
territory  of  Andover  Hill,  so  far  as  it  was  possible.  To  this 
end  he  moved  his  residence  from  North  Andover  to  the 
southern  parish,  where  he  finally  built  the  stately  mansion 
house,  that  until  recently,  when  it  was  destroyed  by  fire, 
faced  the  grounds  of  the  Theological  Seminary.  Here  he 
was  honored  among  the  few  by  a  visit  from  Washington  in 
his  presidential  tour  of  1789.  "The  moment  he  left  the 
house,  Madame  Phillips  tied  a  piece  of  ribbon  upon  the  chair 
which  he  had  occupied  during  the  interview,  and  there  it  re- 
mained ever  afterwards,  until  the  day  of  his  death,  when  she 
substituted  for  it  a  band  of  crape."  That  house  alone  would 
have  borne  witness  to  his  great  purpose,  identified  as  it  has 
been  for  generations  with  the  highest  interests  of  theological 
education.  Judge  Phillips  himself  had  contemplated  the 
possibility  of  a  theological  professorship  in  connection  with 
the  academy  for  the  better  maintenance  of  the  ancient  Puri- 
tan faith,  but  when  he  died  prematurely  in  1802  this  part  of 
his  plan  was  carried  out  by  his  widow,  Pho3be  Foxcrof  t,  with 
the  cooperation  of  her  son,  John  Phillips,  and  the  result  was 
the  Andover  Theological  Seminary,  the  first  institution  of 
the  kind  in  ecclesiastical  history,  the  model  of  the  profes- 
sional theological  training  which  has  since  become  in  this 
country  universal.  To  this  institution  the  wealth  of  the 
Phillips  family  continued  to  flow  from  its  numerous  branches 
and  ramifications.  The  donors  of  houses  and  lands  and  of 
foundations  for  professorships,  whether  men  or  women,  either 
bore  the  name  of  Phillips,  or  in  the  female  line  laid  claim 
to  it.1 

1  "  Lieutenant-Governor  William  Phillips  of  Boston,  who  was  the  honored  Pre- 


1835]  THE  ANCESTRY  15 

There  were  other  activities  of  Judge  Phillips  to  which  al- 
lusion must  at  least  be  made.  He  was  deeply  possessed  with 
the  power  of  religion.  For  many  years  it  was  his  custom  to 
read  to  the  people  at  noon  on  the  Sabbath,  during  the  inter- 
mission between  the  services,  from  some  favorite  doctrinal  or 
devotional  treatise.  He  made  charitable  donations  for  the 
purpose  of  supplying  the  people  of  Andover  with  religious 
books,  Bibles,  Testaments,  and  Psalters,  the  Westminster 
Catechism,  Dr.  Watts's  Divine  Songs,  Doddridge's  Rise  and 
Progress  and  other  works,  Law's  Serious  Call,  Mason  on 
Self  Knowledge,  Henry  on  Meekness,  Orton's  Discourse  to 
the  Aged.  In  the  old  homestead  at  North  Andover  is  still 
preserved  the  library,  almost  exclusively  composed  of  reli- 
gious books,  which  he  had  collected.  In  his  theology  he  ad- 
hered firmly  and  strictly  to  the  old  Calvinism,  fearful  of  the 
least  particle  of  infidelity,  dreading  modern  philosophy,  and 
the  "tendency  to  reduce  the  Christian  religion  to  a  mere 
system  of  morality."  But  in  some  respects  he  was  an  inno- 
vator. He  saw  that  the  system  of  life  pastorates  in  the  New 

sident  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  for  many  years,  added  his  frequent  gifts  while 
he  lived,  and  his  legacy  for  the  library  and  for  the  aid  of  indigent  students  at 
his  death. 

"  Samuel  Abbot,  Esq.,  of  Andover,  who  united  with  Madame  Phillips  and  her 
son,  in  the  founding  of  the  Seminary,  by  endowing  the  Abbot  Professorship 
of  Christian  Theology,  was  a  grandson  of  'Samuel  Phillips,  Esq.,  the  goldsmith 
at  Salem. 

"  The  wife  of  Moses  Brown,  Esq.,  of  Newbnryport,  the  founder  of  the  Browne 
Professorship  of  Ecclesiastical  History,  was  a  great-granddaughter  of  the  Salem 
goldsmith,  also.  .  .  .  Mrs.  Sarah  Abbot,  .  .  .  who  was  the  chief  founder  of 
Abbot  Female  Seminary,  .  .  .  was  a  great-great-granddaughter  of  the  same 
Mr.  Phillips  at  Salem."  (Taylor :  Memoir  of  Judge  Phillips,  p.  390.) 

This  Samuel  Phillips  of  Salem,  known  as  the  goldsmith,  was  the  grandson  of 
George  Phillips  of  Watertown,  the  founder  of  the  family.  He  was  the  ances- 
tor also  of  the  late  Wendell  Phillips.  But  one  cannot  trace  this  line  of  descent 
without  recognizing  that  in  his  wife,  Mary  Emerson,  the  Phillips  blood  had 
been  reinforced  with  some  quality  of  rare  and  high  value. 

The  identification  of  the  Phillips  family  with  the  cause  of  education  is  incom- 
plete without  reference  to  the  Phillips  Exeter  Academy,  founded  by  Dr.  John 
Phillips,  an  uncle  of  Judge  Phillips  of  Andover.  He  had  intended  to  make 
his  nephew  his  heir.  But  when  the  nephew  had  once  interested  him  in  the 
cause  of  education  (he  gave  at  his  nephew's  solicitation  $31,000  to  Andover 
Phillips  Academy)  he  pursued  the  cause  independently,  founding  and  endow- 
ing a  similar  institution  at  Exeter,  New  Hampshire. 


16  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1630 

England  churches  had  outlived  its  usefulness,  and  he  did 
what  he  could  to  prepare  the  way  for  its  rejection. 

These  were  his  characteristics  as  his  biographer  has 
summed  them  up :  He  seemed  daily  to  hear  the  admonition, 
whatsoever  thy  hand  Jindeth  to  do,  do  it  with  thy  might;  he 
was  intensely  methodical  and  careful;  he  was  a  prodigy  of 
activity;  he  was  an  enthusiast  for  virtue;  he  had  an  intensely 
ethical  vein,  combining  with  it  an  impressive  sedateness;  he 
possessed  profound  humility;  he  cherished  a  special  fondness 
for  the  young ;  his  Christian  symmetry  was  completed  by  his 
rare  estimate  of  the  uses  of  wealth,  as  the  handmaid  of  learn- 
ing and  religion.  As  we  read  his  eulogy  it  is  as  though  his 
distinguished  descendant  were  here  living  in  some  previous 
state  of  existence.  When  he  died  in  1802  at  the  age  of  fifty, 
there  was  a  deep  widespread  sense  of  grief  as  at  some  great 
calamity.  "The  immense  concourse"  at  his  funeral,  "the 
presence  of  so  many  distinguished  civilians,  the  universal 
sensibility,  and  the  impressive  exercises  with  which  her  favor- 
ite son  was  laid  in  the  tomb,  made  this  a  most  memorable 
day  for  Andover;  such  as  she  had  never  seen  before,  and 
will  never  see  again." 

In  a  letter  written  by  Judge  Phillips  to  his  son,  a  year 
before  his  own  death,  he  refers  to  his  ancestry,  to  the  power 
of  ancestral  prayer  and  example.  These  ancestors  read  the 
Bible.  They  were  remarkably  constant  in  their  devotions. 
To  that  he  can  testify  in  his  own  experience.  "Who  can 
tell,"  he  adds,  "how  many  blessings  the  prayers  of  our  pious 
ancestors  have  procured  for  their  descendants !  Let  us,  my 
dear  son,  be  equally  faithful,  even  unto  death,  to  our  God, 
to  ourselves,  and  to  those  who  shall  be  born  after  us." 

The  son  to  whom  these  words  were  written  was  the  Hon. 
John  Phillips  of  Andover  (1776-1820),  the  grandfather  of 
Phillips  Brooks.  He,  too,  followed  and  profited  by  the 
example  of  his  ancestors.  There  is  the  same  record  of  his 
earlier  years,  grave  and  studious,  endowed  with  marked 
ability,  improving  the  time  as  though  he  were  on  some  im- 
portant mission,  as  though  he  were  the  medium  through 
which  some  higher  power  were  working.  To  Harvard  Col- 


His  Honor,  Samuel  PhUlips,  LL.  D. 
(1752-1802) 


Hon.John  Phillips 
(1776-1830) 


Madam  Phoebe  Phillips 
(1743-1812) 


Rev.  Samuel  Phillips 
(1690-1771) 


Hon.  William  Phillips 
(1722-1804) 


Hon.  Samuel  Phillips 
(1715-1700) 


Ho*  John  Phillips,  LL.  D. 
(1719-1795) 


The  Phillips  Family  of  Andovcr 


I* 


1835]  THE  ANCESTRY  17 

lege  he  went  as  a  matter  of  course  and  of  necessity.  There 
he  distinguished  himself  as  a  scholar,  taking  many  honors 
by  the  way,  and  finally  graduating  with  high  rank,  giving 
the  Salutatory  Oration  in  Latin,  as  his  father  had  done  be- 
fore him.  He  was  not  insensible  by  any  means,  nor  were 
his  parents,  to  the  social  obligations  of  college  life.  He, 
too,  must  entertain  his  class  in  a  befitting  manner  when  he 
graduated.  His  father,  among  his  almost  countless  activi- 
ties, found  time  to  arrange  with  the  son  the  particular  fea- 
tures of  the  entertainment,  the  number  of  college  rooms 
which  should  be  engaged,  while  his  mother  superintended 
and  with  her  own  hands  assisted  in  the  preparation  of  mate- 
rials for  the  feast.  But  all  this  was  subordinate  to  the 
greater  issue,  the  development  of  character,  the  personal  in- 
dividual solution  of  the  soul's  relation  to  God.  The  burden 
of  his  mother's  letters  to  him  while  in  college,  to  which  his 
father  added  his  weightier  appeal,  was  the  ancient  injunction 
which  has  come  down  through  the  ages ;  it  was  the  endless 
solicitude,  Keep  thy  soul  with  all  diligence,  for  out  of  it 
are  the  issues  of  life.  To  these  injunctions  there  was  added, 
soon  after  he  left  college,  the  motives  which  sprang  from  a 
great  bereavement  in  the  loss  of  his  only  brother,  a  few 
years  younger  than  himself,  —  a  boy  of  great  beauty  of  per- 
sonal appearance,  rich  in  the  affections,  of  singularly  win- 
ning manners,  and  of  high  intellectual  promise.  To  his  father 
and  mother  it  was  a  crushing  blow,  to  him  it  became  a  strong 
religious  incentive  to  devote  himself  in  more  intense  concen- 
tration to  the  spiritual  ideal  of  life.  H4  joined  the  church  in 
Andover  in  1796,  and  his  career  in  life  was  grounded  in  reli- 
gious principle. 

It  had  been  his  father's  wish  that  he  should  study  law,  and 
he  made  arrangements  to  this  end,  entering  upon  his  profes- 
sional studies  at  Charlestown.  But  when  this  plan  was  aban- 
doned in  consequence  of  the  failure  of  his  health,  he  entered 
into  mercantile  pursuits.  His  residence  in  Charlestown  led 
to  his  marriage  in  1798  with  Lydia  Gorham,  daughter  of  the 
Hon.  Nathaniel  Gorham.  From  Charlestown  he  returned  to 
the  old  homestead  at  North  Andover,  and  there  he  passed  his 


1 8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1630 

remaining  days.  His  was  a  quieter  life  than  his  father's  had 
been,  for  ill  health  reduced  his  activity.  But  there  were  the 
same  gifts,  the  same  possibilities,  could  they  have  been  util- 
ized. He  had  the  same  devotion  to  public  interests,  he  had 
the  power  of  enthusiasm  which  enveloped  every  great  cause. 
His  services  as  an  orator  were  often  called  for  on  public  occa- 
sions. He  was  one  of  the  governor's  aids,  and  a  member  of 
the  state  Senate.  But  his  crowning  deed  was  the  founding, 
in  connection  with  his  mother,  of  the  Andover  Theological 
Seminary.  The  idea  had  germinated  with  his  father,  after 
whose  death  it  was  nourished  and  developed  by  his  widow, 
Phffibe  Foxcroft-Phillips.  In  the  legal  document  establish- 
ing the  seminary,  her  name  comes  first  and  is  followed  by 
that  of  her  son. 

John  Phillips  died  in  1820,  prematurely,  like  his  father, 
having  attained  the  age  only  of  forty-five  years.  He  trans- 
mitted the  gift,  the  capacity  for  religion,  the  spiritual  capital 
unimpaired,  to  his  descendants.  Among  the  large  family  of 
children  whom  he  left,  the  fifth  in  order  of  birth  was  Mary 
Ann  Phillips,  in  whose  deep  nature  the  example  and  teaching 
of  her  ancestors  found  congenial  soil  for  yet  further  growth 
and  expansion.  She  pondered  all  these  things  in  her  heart. 
From  his  childhood  to  his  death,  the  inexpressible  tenderness 
of  Phillips  Brooks  for  his  mother  was  one  of  the  deepest 
characteristics  of  his  being,  as  her  influence  was  one  of  the 
higher  sources  of  his  power. 

n 

When  we  turn  to  the  Brooks  family  we  are  conscious  at 
once  of  a  change  or  difference  in  the  religious  and  social  at- 
mosphere. Like  the  Phillips  family,  it  presented  certain 
characteristics  of  its  own,  handed  down,  substantially  un- 
changed from  one  generation  to  another.  It  was  not  as  a 
family  marked  by  the  transcendental  idealism,  the  intense 
devotion  to  religious  or  intellectual  motives,  that  fusion  of 
the  spiritual  and  ethical  with  the  political  and  intellectual, 
which  was  manifested  with  such  overwhelming  force  in  the 
earliest  stage  of  New  England  Puritanism. 


1835]  THE  ANCESTRY  19 

The  Brooks  family  may  be  taken  as  a  type  of  those  who 
from  the  first  had  not  any  deep  inner  sympathy  with  doctrinal 
and  experimental  Puritanism.  As  we  trace  the  line  of  its 
descent,  it  produced  no  great  religious  leaders,  very  few  of 
its  members  entered  the  ranks  of  the  ministry,  nor  did  Har- 
vard College  claim  the  same  relative  contingent  as  in  the 
Phillips  family.  They  were  rather  rich  farmers  with  the  in- 
herited English  love  for  the  land.  They  became  identified 
with  trade,  and  counted  in  their  numbers  opulent  merchants. 
They  were  distinguished  for  their  devotion  to  their  country, 
rising  to  high  positions  in  the  army  or  in  the  offices  of  the 
state.  They  cultivated  character  in  its  phases  of  uprightness 
and  integrity,  generosity  and  devotion  to  public  interests,  — 
the  basis  of  that  confidence  which  they  inspired  among  their 
fellow  citizens.  They  were  honored,  trusted,  and  loved  in 
each  passing  generation. 

The  founder  of  the  family  in  this  country  was  Thomas 
Brooke,  to  whom  the  records  of  the  town  of  Watertown  show 
that  land  was  assigned  as  a  freeman  in  1636.  The  exact 
year  when  he  came  to  Massachusetts  has  not  been  determined. 
As  a  freeman  of  Watertown  he  must  have  sat  under  the  min- 
istrations of  the  Rev.  George  Phillips.  The  coincidence  is 
worth  noting  which  unites  the  two  families  at  the  beginning 
of  New  England  history.  Thomas  Brooke  did  not  remain 
long  at  Watertown.  He  is  next  heard  of  in  Concord,  where 
he  died.  But  before  his  death  he  purchased  in  connection 
with  his  son-in-law  a  farm  in  the  town  of  Medford,  where  the 
Mystic  River  was  a  strong  attraction.  Henceforth  the  Brooks 
family  becomes  identified  with  Medford,  as  Medford  is  to  a 
large  degree  identified  with  the  fortunes  of  this  family,  fur- 
nishing as  it  did  a  never-failing  supply  of  representatives  to 
the  General  Court,  selectmen,  also,  and  heads  of  committees, 
town  treasurers,  and  afterwards  benefactors  in  the  building 
of  churches  and  schoolhouses.  The  history  of  Medford  illus- 
trates the  activity  of  the  Brooks  family,  their  sterling  integ- 
rity, and  the  admiration  and  honor  in  which  they  were  held. 

Caleb  Brooks  was  the  son  of  Thomas  Brooke  of  Concord. 
He,  in  turn,  left  two  sons,  —  Ebenezer  and  Samuel,  —  and 


20  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1630 

these  two  sons  married  sisters,  the  daughters  of  Dr.  Thomas 
Boylston  of  Brookline.  The  family  of  Boylston  was  one  of 
high  distinction  in  Massachusetts.  It  has  ceased  to  exist  as 
a  family,  but  the  name  is  still  perpetuated  in  the  streets  of 
Boston  and  Cambridge,  in  the  halls  also  of  Harvard  Univer- 
sity, where  their  portraits  by  Copley  are  preserved,  giving 
them  a  place  among  the  benefactors  of  learning.  What- 
ever force  or  distinction  the  family  of  Boylston  possessed  was 
not  lost  when  the  male  line  of  descent  was  extinguished. 
The  elder  son  of  Ebenezer  Brooks,  who  had  married  Abi- 
gail Boylston,  was  called  Caleb,  and  Caleb  had  a  son,  John, 
who  rose  to  be  governor  of  Massachusetts,  and  who  de- 
serves a  special  mention.  Governor  John  Brooks,  LL.  I)., 
was  born  in  1752,  and  died  in  1825.  His  record  is  as  fol- 
lows :  He  was  at  the  battle  of  Lexington  in  command  of  a 
company,  from  which  he  rose  to  the  rank  of  a  major ;  he  as- 
sisted in  throwing  up  the  fortifications  at  Breed's  Hill,  and 
in  1777  he  was  appointed  lieutenant-colonel.  In  the  battle 
of  Saratoga,  at  the  head  of  his  regiment,  he  stormed  and 
carried  the  intrenchment  of  the  German  troops.  In  the  bat- 
tle of  Monmouth  he  was  acting  adjutant-general.  He  pos- 
sessed the  confidence  and  received  the  commendation  of 
Washington  for  his  forethought  and  faithfulness.  After  the 
war  he  followed  with  great  success  the  profession  of  medicine, 
but  still  retaining  his  connection  with  public  life.  He  was 
major-general  of  the  militia  of  his  company.  He  worked  in 
the  convention  for  the  adoption  of  the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States.  He  was  appointed  marshal  of  the  district  and 
inspector  of  revenue  by  Washington ;  he  was  an  adjutant-gen- 
eral in  the  war  of  1812,  and  he  became  governor  of  Massachu- 
setts in  1816,  holding  the  office  for  seven  years.  And  further 
he  was  scientific  and  skilful  in  his  profession,  with  manners 
dignified  and  courteous,  laboring  incessantly  for  the  public 
good,  large  and  liberal  in  his  views,  of  undoubted  integrity 
and  patriotism,  amiable  and  esteemed  in  private  life,  the 
delight  of  friends  and  acquaintances. 

In  the  last  years  of  his  life  he  joined  the  church  in  Medford 
under  the  pastoral  care  of  Dr.  Osgood.  Before  he  died  he 
bore  his  testimony :  — 


1835]  THE   ANCESTRY  21 

I  see  nothing  terrible  in  death.  In  looking  to  the  future  I 
have  no  fear,  I  know  in  whom  I  have  believed ;  and  I  feel  a  per- 
suasion that  all  the  trials  appointed  me,  past  or  present,  will  re- 
sult in  my  future  and  eternal  happiness.  I  look  hack  on  my  past 
life  with  humility.  I  am  sensible  of  many  imperfections  that 
cleave  to  me.  I  know  that  the  present  is  neither  the  season  or 
the  place  in  which  to  begin  the  preparation  for  death.  Our  whole 
life  is  given  to  us  for  this  purpose,  and  the  work  of  preparation 
should  be  early  commenced  and  be  never  relaxed  till  the  end  of 
our  days.  To  God  I  can  appeal,  that  it  has  been  my  humble  en- 
deavor to  serve  Him  sincerely,  and  wherein  I  have  failed,  I  trust 
in  his  grace  to  forgive.  I  now  rest  my  soul  on  the  mercy  of  my 
adorable  Creator  through  the  only  mediation  of  his  Son,  our  Lord. 
O  what  a  ground  of  hope  is  there  in  that  saying  of  an  apostle, 
that  God  is  in  Christ  reconciling  a  guilty  world  unto  Himself,  not 
imputing  their  trespasses  unto  them.  In  God  I  have  placed  my 
eternal  all;  and  into  his  hands  I  commend  my  spirit. 

It  was  Samuel  Brooks,  a  brother  of  Caleb  Brooks,  who 
had  married  Sarah  Boylston,  who  becomes  the  direct  ances- 
tor of  Phillips  Brooks.  He  left  a  son  of  the  same  name, 
and  in  the  generation  that  followed  there  was  a  third  Samuel 
Brooks,  who  became  the  father  of  Edward  Brooks  (1733- 
1781).  It  was  this  last  who  broke  the  family  record  by  en- 
tering the  ministry  of  the  church.  But  it  must  be  remarked 
that  his  clerical  career  was  a  failure  from  the  received  point 
of  view  of  his  age.  He  was  settled  over  the  churclnin  North 
Yarmouth,  Maine.  There  he  got  into  difficulty  with  his 
parishioners,  who  thus  formulated  the  cause  of  disagreement : 
"  We  humbly  conceive  that  your  preaching  among  us  has  not 
been  agreeably  to  Calvinistic  usage  and  therefore  disagree- 
able to  the  foundation  that  we  understood  you  settled  with 
us  upon  and  also  disagreeable  to  our  sentiments,  and  there- 
fore matter  of  grievance  to  us."  After  unsuccessful  attempts 
had  been  made  to  overcome  the  difficulty  by  means  of  coun- 
cils, the  Rev.  Edward  Brooks  resigned  his  office,  in  a  letter 
which  breathes  in  its  conclusion  a  Christian  spirit :  — 

I  now  request  you  would  grant  me  a  dismission  from  my  rela- 
tion to  you  as  your  pastor,  so  that  I  may  be  relieved  from  my 
ordination  vows  to  serve  you  in  that  capacity.  May  God  sanctify 
it  to  you  and  to  me  and  all  other  dispensations  of  his  Providence. 


ai  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1630 

May  you  under  his  divine  direction  and  blessing  succeed  in  getting 
another  pastor  to  be  set  over  you  who  shall  feed  you  with  spiritual 
knowledge  and  understanding,  who  shall  preach  the  Gospel  to  you 
in  that  plainness  and  simplicity  in  which  it  was  left  by  Christ 
your  teacher  and  Lord.  May  peace  be  restored  and  established 
among  you,  and  may  you  be  built  up  in  faith  and  in  holiness  and 
in  comfort  with  eternal  life. 

The  time  when  this  correspondence  took  place  was  the 
middle  of  the  eighteenth  century.  A  conflict  was  then  in  its 
first  stages  between  what  was  known  as  Arminianism  and 
the  Calvin  istic  theology  hitherto  dominant  for  the  most  part 
in  New  England.  Anninianism  was  a  tendency  to  assert 
the  dignity  of  man  and  his  divine  endowment,  while  Calvin- 
ism laid  the  stress  upon  human  corruption  and  inability  and 
the  sole  action  of  God  in  salvation.  The  Arminians  denied 
the  Calvinistic  tenets  of  election  and  total  depravity;  they 
asserted  the  freedom  of  the  will ;  they  put  in  the  foreground 
character  and  morality,  as  the  ends  of  religion.  With  their 
opponents  the  supreme  issue  was  the  attainment  of  an  experi- 
ence in  the  soul  binding  it  in  conscious  relationship  with  God 
as  the  source  of  all  good.  The  Rev.  Samuel  Phillips  of  the 
South  Church  in  Andover  was  contemporaneous  with  the 
Rev.  Edward  Brooks,  and  was  contending  against  the  move- 
ment which  the  latter  represented,  on  the  ground  that  it  was 
dissolving  the  Puritan  faith  and  practice.  These  two  men 
were  representatives  of  their  respective  families,  and  also  of 
tendencies  and  issues  in  human  thought,  in  theology,  and 
in  life,  which  were  destined  to  a  yet  sharper  conflict  and  finally 
to  end  in  a  schism  among  the  churches  in  Massachusetts. 
This  Rev.  Edward  Brooks,  the  only  clerical  member  of  his 
family,  did  not  take  another  parish  after  his  release  from 
North  Yarmouth,  but  retired  to  Medford,  living  on  the  spot 
where  the  Brooks  mansion  now  stands. 

"A  high  son  of  liberty,"  as  he  was  called,  he  took  an  active 
part  in  the  Concord  fight  in  1775,  and  afterwards  served  his 
country  as  chaplain  of  the  frigate  Hancock,  where  he  was 
captured  and  taken  a  prisoner  to  Halifax.  Returning  to 
Medford  after  he  was  set  free,  he  did  not  long  survive,  dying 


1 83  5]  THE  ANCESTRY  23 

there  at  the  age  of  forty -eight,  in  the  year  1781.  In  his  de- 
votion to  his  country  he  may  have  found  consolation  for  the 
humiliation  of  his  dismissal  from  the  service  of  the  church. 
His  marriage  to  Abigail  Brown  of  Haverhill  was  important, 
for  she  was  the  direct  descendant  of  the  Rev.  John  Cotton, 
next  to  Governor  Winthrop  the  most  famous  man  in  the  early 
annals  of  New  England.  He  had  been  a  foremost  leader  of 
the  Puritans  in  England,  and  his  coming  to  this  country  in 
1632  from  Boston  in  Lincolnshire  was  regarded  as  a  signal 
favor  of  the  Divine  Providence.  Standing  as  he  does  at  the 
beginnings  of  American  history,  he  has  now  passed  into 
a  mythical  greatness.  In  England,  he  had  been  so  highly 
regarded  for  his  learning  and  scholarship,  his  ability  and 
brilliancy  as  a  teacher  and  lecturer,  that  Williams,  Bishop  of 
Lincoln,  when  he  became  Keeper  of  the  Great  Seal,  asked  of 
King  James  that  a  man  of  so  much  worth  and  learning  might 
have  liberty  of  preaching,  though  he  was  a  Nonconformist. 
He  was  a  voluminous  writer,  the  author,  it  is  said,  of  nearly 
fifty  books,  which  were  sent  to  England  to  be  printed. 
Among  these  his  little  book,  "Milk  for  Babes,"  — a  title 
which  has  sometimes  seemed  like  a  misnomer  to  his  descend- 
ants,—  was  for  a  while  bound  up  with  the  New  England  Cate- 
chism. He  was  invited  to  take  part  in  the  deliberations  of 
the  Westminster  Assembly,  but  declined.  It  was  he  to  whom 
the  General  Court  assigned  the  task  of  making  an  abstract 
of  the  Mosaic  Laws  adapted  for  the  use  of  the  colony.  But 
his  conception  of  a  theocracy  was  too  ideal,  too  rigid,  to  be 
acceptable ;  it  magnified  too  much  the  power  of  the  magis- 
trate, giving  to  the  state  the  absolute  control  of  opinion,  and 
punishing  heresy  with  death.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  he 
sympathized  with  Anne  Hutchinson  and  supported  her,  when 
the  prevailing  sentiment  was  against  her;  but  he  was  so  great 
a  man  that  no  action  could  be  taken  against  him.  After- 
wards, however,  he  changed  his  opinion  and  took  sides  with 
her  opponents.  Anne  Hutchinson  had  said  of  him  that  he 
was  the  only  minister  who  was  under  "a  covenant  of  grace," 
but  others  of  the  same  following  compared  him  to  a  light  in 
a  dark  lantern,  because  he  did  not  go  far  enough.  Although 


24  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1630 

he  was  famous  for  his  Hebrew  and  other  learning,  yet  in  the 
pulpit  of  the  First  Church  of  Boston,  of  which  he  was  the 
teacher,  he  was  marked  by  great  simplicity.  His  custom 
was  to  expound  the  Scriptures  in  their  order,  and  he  was 
halfway  through  his  second  exposition  of  the  entire  Bible 
when  he  died.  A  monumental  tablet  was  erected  to  him  in 
St.  Botolph's  Church  in  1857,  with  a  Latin  inscription  writ- 
ten by  Edward  Everett,  who  had  married  one  of  his  descend- 
ants. Of  this  man,  who  has  been  called  the  Patriarch  of 
New  England,  Abigail  Brown,  who  married  the  Rev.  Edward 
Brooks,  was  the  great-granddaughter,  as  she  was  also  the 
great-grandmother  of  Phillips  Brooks. 

At  the  two  hundred  and  fiftieth  anniversary  of  the  First 
Church  in  Boston  in  the  year  1880,  Phillips  Brooks  was  called 
upon,  as  the  descendant  of  the  Rev.  John  Cotton,  to  speak 
of  his  distinguished  ancestor :  — 

I  should  like  to  say  something  of  the  impression  which  this 
celebration  of  John  Cotton  makes  upon  one  of  his  descendants. 
My  connection  with  my  very  great-grandfather  is  so  remote  that 
I  may  venture  to  speak  of  him  without  hesitation.  I  am  so  full 
of  the  pleasure  in  life,  and  so  full  of  the  sense  that  that  pleasure 
is  very  much  increased  by  its  being  my  happiness  to  live  in  Boston, 
that  I  cannot  but  be  grateful  to  him  who  had  a  great  deal  to  do 
with  my  living  at  all,  and  a  great  deal  to  do  with  making  Boston 
what  it  is  for  a  man  to  live  in.  I  am  not  sure  that  he  would  ac- 
cept of  his  representative,  I  am  not  sure  that  if  he  saw  me  stand- 
ing here  and  speaking  any  words  in  his  praise,  and  knew  exactly 
where  I  was  standing,  there  might  not  be  some  words  rising  to 
his  lips,  that  would  show  that  neither  I  nor  yon  were  wholly  what 
he  could  approve.  .  .  .  John  Cotton,  in  the  life  to  which  he  has 
passed,  now  looks  deeper  and  looks  wider,  and  we  have  a  right  to 
enter  into  communion  with  the  spirit  of  the  man,  and  not  simply 
with  his  specific  opinions  or  the  ways  in  which  he  worshipped.  .  .  . 
It  would  be  a  terrible  thing,  it  would  narrow  our  life  and  make  it 
very  meagre,  if  we  had  no  right  to  honor  and  to  draw  inspiration 
from  any  men  except  those  we  agree  with  and  who  would  approve 
of  us.  .  .  .  A  man  who  stands  as  this  man  stands  at  the  beginning 
of  the  history  of  a  nation  or  a  town  is  an  everlasting  benefactor  to 
the  town  or  nation.  .  .  .  And  I  thank  him,  as  a  Church  of  Eng- 
land man,  as  a  man  loving  the  Episcopal  Church  with  all  my 
heart,  I  thank  him  for  being  a  Puritan.1 

1  Commemoration  Service*  of  First  Church  in  Botton,  1880. 


1 835]  THE  ANCESTRY  25 

The  wife  of  Rev.  Edward  Brooks,  as  was  becoming  in  a 
descendant  of  Rev.  John  Cotton,  retained  for  the  ministry 
something  of  the  ancient  reverence,  despite  her  husband's  ex- 
perience. But  with  their  father's  failure  before  them,  it  was 
hardly  to  be  expected  that  his  sons  should  choose  the  ministry 
as  their  profession.  The  stream  of  tendency  in  the  Brooks 
family  returned  to  its  earlier  and  wonted  channel  when  the 
two  sons  of  Edward  Brooks,  who  bore  the  names  of  Cotton 
Brown  Brooks  (1765-1834)  and  Peter  Chardon  Brooks  (1767- 
1849),  went  into  business  and  became  successful  merchants, 
one  in  Portland  and  the  other  in  Boston.  When  they  were 
still  boys,  or  young  men,  they  must  have  heard  the  echoes  of 
the  controversy  which  was  then  advancing  to  sharp  issues  in 
the  New  England  churches.  When  the  Rev.  David  Osgood 
was  called  by  the  town  and  by  the  church  in  1774  to  be  the 
pastor  in  Medford,  there  were  a  few  dissentient  votes,  and 
among  them  was  Rev.  Edward  Brooks  and  another  member 
of  the  same  family.  The  ground  of  their  opposition  was  the 
Calvinistic  theology  of  Dr.  Osgood.  In  his  confession  of 
faith  before  the  congregation,  he  had  maintained  the  doctrine 
of  God  as  the  sovereign  will  of  the  universe,  decreeing  all 
events  and  things,  and  as  existing  (though  in  a  manner  above 
his  comprehension)  in  a  Trinity  of  persons* — Father,  Son, 
and  Holy  Ghost,  the  doctrine  also  of  total  depravity,  and  in 
a  word  the  teaching  of  the  Westminster  Assembly,  as  con- 
sonant with  the  Scriptures,  the  oracles  of  God.  To  this 
teaching  the  members  of  the  Brooks  family  were  not  only 
opposed,  but  they  did  all  in  their  power  to  make  his  settle- 
ment in  Medford  impossible.  It  is  to  their  credit,  however, 
that,  when  their  resistance  failed,  a  letter  was  sent  to  the  new 
pastor,  signed  by  them,  declaring  that  their  opposition  was 
over,  they  acquiesced  in  the  situation,  and  stood  ready  to 
attend  his  ministry  and  aid  him  in  his  work.1 

Towns  also,  like  families,  perpetuate  characteristics  and 
distinctive  qualities.  Andover  and  Medford  may  stand  as 
types  of  communities ;  handing  down  through  the  generations 
the  dominant  purpose  of  their  founders  and  influential  men. 

1  Brooks :  Hittory  of  Medford,  p.  24 J. 


26  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1630 

Dr.  Osgood  began  his  ministry  as  one  of  the  stricter  sort  of 
Calvinists,  and  ended  it  as  one  of  the  Liberal  or  Arminian 
School  which  was  to  be  known  in  its  later  days  as  Unitarian. 
The  influence  of  his  predecessors  in  the  church  at  Medford 
had  been  in  that  direction.  They  had  refused  to  recognize 
the  Separatists  in  the  days  of  the  Great  Awakening,  they  did 
not  think  it  was  necessary  to  call  for  a  statement  of  religious 
experience  on  the  part  of  those  joining  the  church.  Even 
Dr.  Osgood  carried  with  him  the  germs  of  liberalism  at  the 
time  when  he  was  holding  most  stringently  to  the  tenets  of 
Calvinism,  for  he  believed  that  the  Scriptures  were  addressed 
to  the  human  reason,  and  he  would  study  the  Bible  for  him- 
self  unbiassed  by  the  decisions  of  others.  Under  the  influ- 
ence of  these  motives,  under  the  subtle,  imponderable  influ- 
ence of  the  age  and  his  own  community,  he  was  changing 
his  attitude  towards  the  "doctrines  of  grace,"  and  during  his 
long  and  powerful  ministry  he  was  leading  his  congregation 
with  him.  One  of  the  lines  of  division  at  this  time  among 
the  Massachusetts  clergy,  years  before  the  schism,  was  drawn 
at  the  point  whether  or  not  it  was  necessary  to  a  minister's 
work  that  he  should  have  an  interest  in  and  have  reached 
conclusions  about  questions  of  theology.  At  the  moment 
when  Andover  was  deepening  its  interest  in  theology  and  its 
issues,  Dr.  Osgood  was  tending  in  the  other  direction.  This 
was  the  first  dividing  line.  Dr.  Osgood  for  a  long  time  re- 
fused to  speak  upon  these  questions,  and  it  was  generally  as- 
sumed in  the  early  years  of  the  nineteenth  century  (1806) 
that  he  still  belonged  with  the  conservative  school  of  the  Old 
Calvinists.  But  he  is  a  strong  man,  as  it  has  been  said,  who 
can  conceal  his  convictions.  Dr.  Osgood  was  not  strong 
enough  in  his  later  years  to  conceal  the  conclusions  towards 
which  he  had  been  gravitating.  He  had  given  up  the  doc- 
trine of  total  depravity:  "Men,"  he  said,  "are  wicked 
enough,  but  not  totally  depraved.  Devils  are  not  totally 
evil.  In  hell  there  are  no  barbers'  shops;  no  devil  there 
dare  trust  his  throat  with  another ;  whereas,  men  on  earth  do 
so  trust  each  other  safely."  And  again  he  had  offered  in 
1819  a  conundrum  in  connection  with  Mr.  Wisner's  appoint- 


1835]  THE   ANCESTRY  27 

ment  over  the  Old  South  Church  in  Boston :  "  Why  will  his 
creed  be  like  a  lighted  candle  ?  Because  the  longer  it  lives, 
the  shorter  it  will  be."  And  further  to  some  one  seeking  a 
private  answer  in  regard  to  his  theological  position  in  the 
year  1819,  the  same  year  in  which  Dr.  Channing  preached 
his  famous  Baltimore  sermon,  he  asked,  "How  far  is  it  from 
here  to  Andover  Institution?"  and  was  answered,  "About 
seventeen  miles."  "How  far  is  it  from  here  to  the  Cam- 
bridge Theological  Institution?"  "About  four  miles." 
"Well,"  said  he,  "I  have  been  thinking  that  is  just  about 
my  theological  position  with  regard  to  the  two  schools."1 

Under  these  influences  the  sons  of  Rev.  Edward  Brooks 
came  in  Medford,  and  thus  passed  over  into  the  ranks  of 
Unitarianism.  Mr.  Peter  Chardon  Brooks,  the  younger  son, 
was  a  warm  and  generous  supporter  of  the  church  at  Medford 
under  Dr.  Osgood's  ministry.  The  Phillips  family  and  the 
Brooks  family,  which  had  been  in  contact  for  a  moment  in 
the  earliest  history  of  Watertown,  were  now  coming  together 
again  in  a  closer  relationship.  For  Peter  Chardon  Brooks 
of  Medford  and  John  Phillips  of  Andover  were  brothers-in- 
law,  having  married  sisters,  the  daughters  of  Mr.  Nathaniel 
Gorhain  of  Charlestown.  The  contrast,  but  the  resemblance 
also,  between  these  two  men,  is  suggestfve  and  striking. 
While  Mr.  John  Phillips  was  associated  with  his  mother  in 
founding  the  Andover  Theological  Seminary,  thus  alienating 
from  his  family  the  property  which  would  have  been  his  own, 
Mr.  Peter  Chardon  Brooks  was  giving  his  close  attention  to 
business,  with  economy  and  perseverance  joined  with  strictest 
integrity,  and  laying  the  foundations  of  what  came  to  be 
thought  a  princely  fortune.  At  his  death  in  1849  he  was 
reputed  the  richest  man  in  Boston.  Mr.  John  Phillips  was 
one  of  those  who  were  interested  in  theology,  and  in  the 
maintenance  unimpaired  of  the  Puritan  theological  heritage. 
He  did  not,  indeed,  share  in  those  theological  refinements 
known  as  Hopkinsianism,  though  he  gave  his  consent  to  their 
recognition  in  the  Constitution  of  the  Andover  Seminary. 
But  for  theology  his  brother-in-law  had  no  taste  or  sympathy. 

1  Brooks :  History  of  Medford,  p.  245. 


28  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1630 

The  life  of  Mr.  Peter  Chardon  Brooks  has  been  sketched  by 
the  late  Rev.  O.  B.  Frothingham,  who  was  his  grandson  and 
had  access  to  his  journals.1  He  presents  him  as  the  example 
of  the  Unitarian  layman  of  the  period  (1820-1850),  industri- 
ous, honest,  faithful  in  all  relations  of  life,  charitable,  public* 
spirited,  intelligent,  sagacious,  mingling  the  prudence  of  the 
man  of  affairs  with  the  faith  of  the  Christian.  But  of  him 
and  the  men  of  whom  he  was  a  type,  it  is  added  that  while 
they  possessed  these  high  qualities,  "  integrity,  conscientious- 
ness, directness  of  dealing,  reverence  for  learning  and  for 
piety,  punctiliousness  of  demeanor  and  urbanity,"  qualities 
inherited  from  ancient  Puritan  ancestry,  yet  "they  were  not 
reformers  or  ascetics  or  devotees.  All  idealists  were  vision- 
aries in  their  esteem.  Those  who  looked  for  a  '  kingdom  of 
heaven'  were  dreamers."  And  further,  "they  went  to  church, 
they  had  family  prayers  as  a  rule,  though  by  no  means  uni- 
versally. It  was  customary  to  say  grace  at  meat.  They 
wished  they  were  holy  enough  to  adorn  the  communion ;  they 
believed  the  narrations  in  the  Bible,  Old  Testament  and 
New."2  Of  Mr.  Peter  Chardon  Brooks  more  particularly, 
"he  was  simply  a  merchant,  coining  money  as  he  had  oppor- 
tunity, buying  land,  making  investments,  sending  out  cargoes, 
negotiating  bonds,  pursuing  a  just  course,  yet  he  did  his  full 
share  of  public  good  and  left  a  name  that  his  descendants  are 
proud  to  bear."  At  the  root  of  the  confidence  he  won  in  the 
community  lay  character,  for  that  is  the  basis  of  confidence, 
which  can  be  won  and  held  only  by  character. 

Mr.  Peter  Chardon  Brooks  kept  a  journal,  as  was  then  the 
custom,  but  it  was  not  a  record  of  religious  experiences. 
Something  of  his  inner  life  appears,  however,  in  these  daily 
entrances.  He  keeps  an  account  of  his  charities,  felicitating 
himself  on  the  pleasure  they  give  him,  wishing  that  he  could 
be  more  generous  and  open-handed  with  his  money,  but  ac- 
knowledging that  it  costs  him  an  effort  to  give.  He  explains 
this  infirmity  as  springing  from  the  fact  that  he  had  made  his 
money  by  assiduous  effort.  He  frankly  confesses  to  himself 

1  Cf.  Boston  Unitarianitm,  1820-1850. 
*  Ibid.  pp.  93,  94. 


1835]  THE  ANCESTRY  29 

that  the  evil  of  great  wealth  is  the  tendency  to  regard  it  as 
an  end  rather  than  a  means.  Those  who  have  inherited  for- 
tunes can  part  with  them  more  easily  for  ideal  ends.  He 
thinks  that  the  possession  of  money  rarely  makes  us  better. 
And  yet  he  sees  a  virtue  in  this  devotion  to  money-getting, 
for  it  affords  a  stimulus  and  keeps  men  from  idleness.  But 
honesty  and  integrity  are  everywhere  apparent.  He  was  not 
a  man  that  could  do  anything  that  was  mean.  He  acknow- 
ledged the  claims  of  family  relationship,  and  was  moved  by 
cases  of  individual  need.  The  element  of  gratitude  to  a 
higher  power  is  not  wanting,  but  it  does  not  seem  to  operate 
as  a  motive.  There  is  religion  here,  but  it  is  of  a  different 
type  from  that  of  a  doctrinal  Puritan,  with  whom  the  future 
world  and  its  interests  outweigh  in  importance  the  usages  of 
the  existing  order.  Here  the  religion  is  mingled  with  the 
business  of  common  life,  and  no  effort  is  made  to  disengage  it 
as  something  distinct  from  and  above  the  medium  of  its 
manifestation. 

Mr.  Peter  Chardon  Brooks  is  entitled  to  this  special  men- 
tion because  for  a  moment,  and  that  an  important  one,  he  stood 
in  loco  parentis  to  William  Gray  Brooks  and  Mary  Ann 
Phillips,  the  father  and  mother  of  Phillips  Brooks/  For 
William  Gray  Brooks  was  a  son  of  an  older  brother  of  Peter 
Chardon  Brooks,  who  bore  the  name  of  Cotton  Brown  Brooks, 
and  became  a  resident  of  Portland,  Maine.  He,  too,  was 
a  man  of  business  capacity,  with  a  high  ideal  of  the  duties  of 
citizenship  and  filling  places  of  honor  and  trust  in  the  com- 
munity where  he  lived.  When  William  Gray  Brooks,  his 
son,  who  was  born  in  1805,  had  reached  the  age  of  nineteen, 
he  came  to  Boston  to  seek  his  fortunes  and  was  hospitably 
received  by  his  uncle  at  whose  house  in  Medford  or  in  Boston 
he  was  a  frequent  visitor.  Here  he  met  Mary  Ann  Phillips, 
who  was  likewise  a  frequent  and  welcome  visitor,  for  Mr. 
Peter  Chardon  Brooks  was  also  her  uncle,  having  married  her 
mother's  sister.  To  her  the  change  from  the  old  homestead 
in  North  Andover,  with  its  restricted  income  since  her  fa- 
ther's death,  and  with  its  growing  isolation,  must  have  been 
a  delight  and  an  emancipation.  It  brought  her  into  social 


jo  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1630 

relationships  with  all  that  was  most  attractive  and  elevating 
in  the  growing  city  of  Boston.  Her  cousins,  for  Mr.  Peter 
Chardon  Brooks  was  the  father  of  a  large  family  of  sons  and 
daughters,  were  all  richly  endowed  by  nature,  each  of  them 
opening  up  new  avenues  of  influence  and  expansion  for  the 
family.  One  of  these  cousins  had  married  Edward  Everett, 
for  a  time  a  Unitarian  minister,  then  distinguished  as  a 
scholar,  an  orator,  and  a  statesman.  Another  had  married 
Charles  Francis  Adams,  the  son  and  the  grandson  of  Presi- 
dents of  the  United  States,  and  himself  destined  in  his  own 
right  to  high  honor,  as  the  United  States  Minister  to  Eng- 
land in  the  late  civil  war.  Still  another  cousin  was  married 
to  Rev.  N.  L.  Frothingham,  who  held  the  position  of  minis- 
ter of  the  First  Church  in  Boston,  and  in  Dr.  Channing's 
opinion  to  be  a  Unitarian  minister  in  Boston  in  those  days 
was  the  height  of  human  honor  and  felicity.  The  sons  also  of 
Peter  Chardon  Brooks,  —  Edward,  Gorham,  Peter  Chardon, 
Jr.,  and  Sydney,  inherited  the  enduring  gifts  of  family  de- 
scent, energy,  and  enterprise,  coupled  with  integrity,  insight 
into  opportunities  of  wealth,  and  influence.  Into  relationship 
with  this  family  of  social  distinction  and  rich  endowments 
came  Mary  Ann  Phillips,  bringing  with  her  equal  gifts  and 
rare  virtues,  but  possessing  a  distinct  power  and  quality, 
whose  greatness  was  not  yet  revealed.  As  a  young  girl  she 
endeared  herself  to  her  relations  by  the  earnestness  of  her 
character  and  the  sweetness  of  her  disposition. 


CHAPTER  II 

BIRTH    AND    EARLY    LIFE.      THE   TRANSITION    TO    THE   EPIS- 
COPAL CHURCH.      THE  BOSTON   LATIN   SCHOOL 

WILLIAM  GRAY  BROOKS  and  Mary  Ann  Phillips  were 
married  at  the  homestead  in  North  Andover  in  1833.  On 
coming  to  Boston  they  set  up  their  new  household  at  No.  56 
High  Street,  then  a  street  of  residences,  but  long  since  given 
up  to  business.  Near  by,  on  the  corner  of  Pearl  and  High 
streets,  was  the  home  of  their  uncle,  Peter  Chardon  Brooks. 
Fort  Hill,  in  the  immediate  vicinity,  since  levelled  and  no 
longer  existing  except  in  memory,  was  then  a  fashionable 
centre  of  old  Boston.  The  South  End  and  the  Back  Bay 
were  yet  to  appear,  and  the  Public  Garden  was  not  dreamed 
of.  The  limit  of  the  city  was  Boylston  Street  on  the  south 
and  Charles  Street  on  the  west.  Tremont  Street,  bordering 
on  the  Common,  Winter  and  Summer  streets,  and  Temple 
Place  were  still  occupied  with  private  residences.  Within 
this  district  were  the  churches :  the  First  Church  in  Chauncy 
Place,  Dr.  Channing's  Church  on  Federal  Street,  and  the 
Second  Church  on  Hanover  Street;  the  Brattle  Street  Church 
was  still  convenient  to  its  congregation,  as  was  King's  Chapel. 
Trinity  Church  stood  on  Summer  Street;  and  the  new  St. 
Paul's  Church  on  Tremont  Street,  opposite  the  Common,  was 
then  regarded  as  an  architectural  adornment  of  the  city. 

Into  this  modest  household  on  High  Street,  with  its  un- 
conscious accumulation  of  ancestral  tendencies  and  forces,  we 
are  now  privileged  to  enter.  Three  of  the  children  were  born 
there,  of  whom  Phillips  Brooks  was  the  second.  His  birth- 
day was  December  13,  1835.  His  older  brother  was  named 
after  his  father,  William  Gray  Brooks,  Jr. ,  and  his  younger 
brother  was  named  George,  after  the  first  Phillips  ancestor. 
In  1842  the  family  removed  to  No.  3  liowe  Street,  a  con- 


32  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1835 

tinuation  of  Chauncy  Place.  The  change  was  necessitated 
partly  by  the  encroachments  of  business,  and  in  part  by  the 
needs  of  a  larger  house  for  the  growing  family.  Rowe  Street 
has  since  disappeared  from  the  map  of  Boston,  merged  into 
Chauncy  Street,  which  includes  also  the  extension  of  Chauncy 
Place  to  Summer  Street.  When  Rowe  Street  was  finally 
demanded  by  the  expansion  of  trade,  the  family  moved  once 
more  and  took  up  its  abode  in  Hancock  Street.  In  the  home 
on  Rowe  Street  the  three  younger  sons  were  born,  Frederick 
Brooks,  Arthur  Brooks,  and  John  Cotton  Brooks. 

A  marked  characteristic  of  the  Brooks  household  was  its 
intense  family  feeling,  —  a  glad  recognition  of  that  mysterious 
bond  which  unites  the  members  in  living  organic  relation- 
ship. To  this  result  its  isolation  contributed,  for  it  did  not 
enter  from  the  first  the  world  of  fashionable  society,  but 
devoted  its  somewhat  limited  resources  to  its  own  interior 
development.  The  education  of  the  children  became  the 
supreme  motive.  The  home  life  shut  them  up  with  the 
parents  as  in  some  sacred  enclosure,  a  nursery  for  great  op- 
portunities in  the  future.  This  family  life  was  also  extended 
into  the  church,  where  the  family  met  in  its  pew  as  a  family 
in  the  divine  presence.  It  is  one  of  the  gifts  of  the  much- 
derided  eighteenth  century,  this  family  feeling  it  bequeathed, 
symbolized  by  the  pewing  of  the  churches,  which  to  this  later 
age  has  seemed  incongruous  and  sometimes  threatens  to  dis- 
appear. Great  changes  in  civilization  are  sometimes  trace- 
able in  what  seem  like  trifling  alterations  in  ecclesiastical 
furniture.  When  the  pew  first  appeared,  and  not  without 
remonstrance,1  it  was  a  square  high  box,  whose  purpose  was 
manifest,  not  so  much  for  the  convenience  of  seating  the  con- 
gregation, as  for  the  exclusive  use  and  distinct  recognition 

1  Pews  were  not  tolerated  at  first  in  the  meetinp-honse  at  Medford.  Their 
origin  dates  May  25,  1396,  when  a  petition  waa  presented  by  a  prominent  mem- 
ber of  the  congregation  for  permission  to  build  a  pew,  and  the  liberty  wa* 
given  by  the  town. 

Bnt  when  another  gentleman  asked  the  same  permission,  the  petition  was 
granted  on  the  condition  that  he  most  take  into  his  pew  one  or  two  persons,  not 
belonging  to  his  family,  whom  the  town  may  name.  (Cf .  Brook* :  History  of 
Medford,  p.  328.) 


jer.  i]  EARLY   LIFE  33 

of  the  family  life.  Then  came  the  long  pew,  still,  however, 
with  its  high  walls,  from  within  which,  when  seated,  the  con- 
gregation was  not  visible.  Next  followed  the  lowering  of 
these  divisions,  till  the  pew,  while  it  still  enclosed  the  family, 
no  longer  separated  it  as  by  an  impassable  barrier,  and  the 
congregation  saw  itself  as  a  whole.  If  the  same  movement 
continues,  there  may  be  a  return  to  the  use  before  the  Refor- 
mation, when  pews  were  unknown,  and  when  also  family  life 
in  its  higher  and  diviner  capacities  was  yet  to  be  revealed. 
In  these  changes,  if  there  has  been  a  gain  in  one  direction, 
there  has  been  a  loss  in  another.  The  family  has  not  been 
strengthened,  but  rather  weakened  by  the  sociological  tend- 
ency of  the  age,  whose  drift  is  to  set  forth  humanity  as  one 
great  whole.  There  were  infelicities,  of  course,  and  limita- 
tions in  the  family  life,  as  it  is  presented,  for  example,  in  the 
literature  of  the  time.  But  in  this  family  where  Phillips 
Brooks  grew  up,  its  nobler  aspect  was  predominant  and  un- 
sullied, the  father  and  mother  ruling  with  diligence  and 
unquestioned  authority,  while  beneath  their  authority  runs 
the  eternal  principle  of  self-sacrifice,  till  they  seem  to  live 
only  for  the  welfare  of  the  children.  They  appear  as  inter- 
ested, not  so  much  for  themselves  in  the  increase  of  their 
own  joy  in  life  or  in  their  own  cultivation,  as  in  making 
a  larger  life  possible  for  the  children  whom  God  had  given 
them. 

It  need  hardly  be  said  that  this  was  a  religious  family. 
The  usage  of  family  prayer  was  rigidly  observed,  in  the 
morning  before  going  forth  to  the  work  of  the  day,  and  again 
in  the  evening  at  nine  o'clock.  The  evenings  were  spent  by 
the  whole  family  together  around  the  common  table  in  the 
"back  parlor,"  the  father  busy  at  the  many  literary  tasks 
which  his  interests  and  ingenuity  imposed  on  his  leisure;  the 
mother  with  her  sewing,  and  with  her  deeper  meditations, 
and  the  boys  at  their  books  preparing  the  lesson  for  the  next 
day.  Visitors  came  in  occasionally  for  a  call  or  to  spend 
the  evening,  but  this  was  rare;  the  avocations  of  the  family 
were  pursued  without  interruptions.  There  was  abundance 
of  hilarity,  and  boisterous  demonstration  of  the  natural  glad- 


34  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1835 

ness  with  which  the  whole  family  was  endowed,  but  the  un- 
dercurrent flowed  in  a  deep-set  channel  of  serious  and  direct 
endeavor.  This  home  for  the  children  was  interesting,  but 
not  monotonous  or  dull.  The  boys  did  not  fret  at  exclusion 
from  richer  interests  in  the  world  outside  or  long  to  escape 
the  narrow  routine.  The  evenings  at  home  were  made  at- 
tractive in  some  way,  the  newest  books  were  read  aloud,  the 
fulfilment  of  duty  was  in  itself  a  pleasure.  But  the  concen- 
tration of  parental  love  upon  the  children,  undiluted  by  dis- 
tractions without  or  by  personal  aims,  must  after  all  have 
been  the  secret  of  the  charm  which  bound  the  children  to 
their  home.  Such  a  sacrifice  had  its  reward.  The  home  be- 
came to  the  children  their  choicest  treasure,  to  which  they 
fondly  reverted  in  after  years,  when  its  diviner  meaning  was 
more  apparent.  When  Phillips  Brooks  left  home  for  the 
first  time  he  was  followed  by  the  letters  which  always  assured 
him  that  he  was  constantly  remembered,  and  never  at  any 
moment  forgotten.  He  responded  to  this  affection,  by  carry- 
ing about  with  him  the  memory  of  the  home  circle  as  a  pic- 
ture stamped  upon  his  soul  in  colors  ineffaceable.  At  heart 
he  always  remained  a  " child  in  the  household"  until  father 
and  mother  were  withdrawn  from  the  world.  The  vision  of 
that  dear,  unworldly,  self-sacrificing  life  was  always  before 
him  at  home  or  in  his  wanderings  abroad,  nearer  to  him 
. — -_than  any  other  experience. 

More  important  than  the  fixing  of  the  domicile  was  the 
determination  of  the  religious  question  and  the  choice  of  a 
place  of  worship.  The  religious  problem  was  sure  to  arise 
and  call  for  adjustment  under  ordinary  circumstances.  But 
the  situation  in  this  family  was  peculiar,  demanding  that  the 
issue  be  thoroughly  probed.  The  father  was  a  typical  repre- 
sentative of  the  Brooks  family  with  its  devotion  to  affairs,  its 
predominant  interest  in  this  present  world,  religious  also  and 
reverent  in  his  inmost  spirit,  but  not  given  to  introversive- 
ness  or  contemplation,  nor  seeking  the  assurance  of  some 
deeper  religious  experience.  He,  too,  like  his  ancestors, 
illustrated  and  enforced  the  gospel  of  the  secular  life,  the 
faithful  performance  of  duty,  the  quick  recognition  of  every 


XT.  i]  EARLY   LIFE  35 

obligation.  He  was  from  the  first  what  he  always  remained, 
a  true  and  genuine  citizen,  alive  to  civic  and  social  relation- 
ships, with  a  sympathy  and  appreciation  for  all  things  human, 
with  a  gift  for  the  manifold  detail  of  life  and  an  imagination 
stirred  by  patriotic  appeal.  He  watched  with  keenest  inter- 
est every  change  or  movement  affecting  the  interests  of 
Boston,  he  studied  men  in  their  relation  to  their  times,  and 
his  judgment  was  characterized  by  a  sanity  that  was  perfect 
and  rare.  He  had  been  brought  under  the  influences  which 
were  tending  towards  what  was  to  be  known  as  Unitarianism, 
and  was  ready  to  identify  himself  with  that  movement,  al- 
though he  was  no  controversialist,  and  nowhere  expresses 
himself  as  moved  by  a  reactionary  spirit  towards  the  dominant 
purpose  of  the  ancient  doctrinal  Puritanism.  But  he  iden- 
tified himself  with  Boston,  and  those  were  the  days  when  it 
almost  seemed  as  if  Boston  were  identified  with  Unitarianism. 
The  mother  of  Phillips  Brooks  represented  another  and 
different  tendency.  From  her  earliest  childhood  she  had 
been  made  familiar  with  the  ancestral  history  of  the  Phillips 
family,  and  more  than  others  in  her  country  home  she  had 
pondered  these  things  in  her  heart.  She  knew  the  work  and 
character  of  each  generation  of  the  family,  finding  no  diffi- 
culty in  distinguishing  from  each  other  the  many  Samuels, 
from  Samuel  Phillips  of  Rowley  to  Samuel  who  founded  the 
institutions  on  Andover  Hill.  She  studied  the  letters  and 
other  documents  of  her  grandmother,  Pho3be  Foxcroft,  who, 
with  her  own  father,  had  combined  in  planting  the  Andover 
Theological  Seminary;  she  was  no  stranger  to  the  purpose 
for  which  that  school  of  the  prophets  stood,  —  to  maintain  the 
old  faith  in  its  purity  and  its  integrity.  Her  mind  was  not 
theological,  but  it  was  intensely  religious,  and  her  religion 
moved  in  the  grooves  of  the  ancient  piety.  Her  power  of 
feeling  and  emotion  was  the  source  of  her  knowledge,  for  she 
was  no  wide,  discursive  reader.  She  had  a  deep  interior 
life  of  the  soul,  whose  phases  were  more  real  and  vital  than 
the  phenomena  of  the  passing  world.  Religion  to  her  was  a 
life  in  Christ  and  hidden  with  Christ  in  God.  If  her  range  of 
interests  seemed  narrow  in  comparison  with  the  large,  genial, 


36  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1835 

human  outlook  of  her  husband,  yet  her  aspiration,  her  ambi- 
tion, had  a  world-wide  scope,  for  she  would  have  all  men 
everywhere  brought  under  the  control  of  her  dominant  pur- 
pose. The  subject  that  most  absorbed  her  imagination  was 
foreign  missions,  about  which  she  kept  herself  informed  and 
for  whose  success  she  hungered  and  prayed.  She  had,  too, 
a  powerful  will  for  the  accomplishment  of  great  ends,  though 
the  sphere  was  restricted  for  its  manifestation.  The  study 
of  her  family  history  afforded  her  a  picture  of  life,  where 
tragedies  in  the  loss  of  children  had  saddened  its  successive 
generations.  She  brooded  over  the  letters  which  revealed 
these  unspeakable  depths  of  human  sorrow,, with  the  infer- 
ence that  life  was  vanity  apart  from  the  knowledge  and  the 
love  of  God.  Something'  of  the  sadness  which  had  become 
a  family  characteristic  was  written  on  her  features,  the  face 
of  one  subdued  by  the  possibilities  of  infinite  loss  in  an 
uncertain  world. 

When  the  father  and  mother  with  these  contrasted  tenden- 
cies and  dispositions,  which  yet  were  supplementary  to  each 
other,  set  up  their  home  in  Boston,  they  took  the  First  Church 
in  Boston,  then  situated  in  Chauncy  Place,  as.  their  place  of 
worship.  Its  situation  was  convenient ;  there  also  their  uncle, 
Mr.  Peter  Chardon  Brooks,  was  an  attendant,  and  the  pastor, 
Rev.  N.  L.  Frothingham,  was  a  near  kinsman,  having  mar- 
ried their  cousin.  Then  also  Mr.  William  Gray  Brooks  was 
a  lineal  descendant  in  the  seventh  generation  of  that  John 
Cotton  who  had  been  the  pastor  of  this  church  at  its  founda- 
tion, —  a  consideration  of  no  slight  importance.  To  have 
gone  elsewhere  would  also  have  seemed  like  a  sundering  of 
family  ties.  The  First  Church,  it  may  be  added,  was  strong 
in  the  number  and  character  of  its  adherents;  it  was  reputed 
to  be  the  wealthiest  church  in  Boston;  its  members  were 
also  marked  in  an  unusual  degree  by  literary  culture,  and 
by  social  and  political  prominence. 

At  this  time,  in  1833,  the  schism  had  been  completed 
between  the  Trinitarian  and  the  Unitarian  parties  in  the 
churches  of  Massachusetts.  Exactly  when  the  lines  were 
sharply  drawn  which  divided  them  is  uncertain.  Those  who 


or.  i]  EARLY   LIFE  37 

were  afterwards  to  be  known  as  Unitarians  do  not  seem  to  be 
conscious  of  any  breach  in  their  ecclesiastical  relations  or  in 
their  religious  faith.  They  did  not  at  first  wish  to  be  known 
as  Unitarians,  but  rather  avoided  the  name.  They  would 
have  remained  if  it  were  possible  in  fellowship  with  their 
brethren,  who  retained  the  doctrinal  tenets  against  which  they 
protested.  Silent  influences  had  been  at  work  for  several 
generations,  the  spirit  of  the  eighteenth  century,  in  relaxing 
the  hold  of  many  upon  the  doctrines  of  original  sin,  of  elec- 
tion and  conversion,  of  future  endless  punishment,  and  finally 
of  the  Trinity.  But,  when  what  is  known  as  Hopkinsianism 
arose,  a  movement  characterized  by  intenser  and  more  logical 
assertion  of  the  Calvinistic  theology,  then  the  liberal  school, 
as  it  may  be  called,  became  more  deeply  conscious  of  the  gulf 
which  divided  them  from  their  brethren.  After  Dr.  Channing 
had  preached  his  famous  sermon  in  1819,  at  Baltimore,  defin- 
ing in  a  dogmatic  fashion  the  principles  on  which  the  liberal 
churches  stood,  the  schism  was  practically  completed,  and 
Unitarianism  became  a  distinct  ecclesiastical  body. 

Dr.  N.  L.  Frothingham  belonged  in  spirit  to  an  earlier 
generation  than  Dr.  Channing.  In  his  time,  transcenden- 
talism was  not  as  yet,  nor  the  literary  renaissance  whose  mo- 
tive was  romanticism.  He  was  well  read  and  a  good  student, 
an  attractive  preacher,  but  we  may  detect  his  type  as  a  man 
and  as  a  thinker  when  we  are  told  that  he  disliked  Coleridge, 
and  Wordsworth,  and  Shelley.  His  religion  was  based  upon 
sentiment  or  feeling,  but  it  was  never  allowed  to  degenerate, 
as  it  would  have  been  thought,  into  enthusiasm.  No  stress 
was  laid  upon  the  intellectual  process  in  its  relation  to  faith; 
speculative  conclusions  were  disavowed  in  the  interest  of  "a 
lovely  disposition  and  a  virtuous  purpose  and  a  heart  that  is 
right  before  God  and  man."  These  were  the  catchwords  of 
his  religious  teaching.  In  his  comment  upon  his  father's 
preaching,  the  late  Rev.  O.  B.  Frothingham  remarks:  "It 
was  not  calculated  to  form  heroic  virtues,  courage,  boldness, 
fortitude,  consecration,  self-surrender,  sacrifice,  passionate 
enthusiasm,  devotion  to  a  cause  that  seemed  righteous,  but  it 
was  relied  on  to  foster  the  gentler  qualities  of  trust,  hope, 


38  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1839 

patience,  gratitude,  submission,  the  love  that  casts  out  fear. 
The  building  up  of  personal  character  in  courtesy,  diligence, 
generosity,  was  the  object,  not  the  formation  of  correct 
opinions."  ' 

This  earlier  type  of  Unitarianism  represented  by  Dr. 
Frothingham  had  its  creed,  or  at  least  its  rule  of  faith.  It 
professed  a  deep  reverence  for  Holy  Scripture  as  the  authority 
for  religious  faith,  and  it  held  also  to  the  person  of  Christ 
as  in  some  undefined  but  original  manner  the  founder  of  an 
absolute  religion.  It  continued  to  speak  of  the  work  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  in  the  soul.  It  was  anxious  to  assert  the  charac- 
ter of  God  as  the  Father,  in  ways  which  should  overcome  the 
thraldom  of  superstition  and  terror.  But  already  changes 
were  threatening  this  moderate  and  sober  attitude;  Dr. 
Channing  was  preaching  the  validity  of  the  natural  reason 
and  conscience  of  man,  as  the  foundation  of  religious  author- 
ity, rather  than  the  letter  and  the  text  of  Scripture,  rousing 
an  enthusiasm  for  humanity,  and  leading  in  efforts  for  the 
abolition  of  slavery.  Theodore  Parker  was  soon  to  follow, 
and  with  him  an  era  of  religious  controversy. 

Dr.  Frothingham  in  his  pulpit  of  the  First  Church  in 
Chauncy  Place  was  not  insensible  to  these  coming  changes. 
He  discerned  the  signs  of  the  times.  He  deprecated  the  tend- 
ency to  "the  apotheosis  of  human  nature"  as  leading  man 
to  "the  last  delusion,  the  worship  of  himself."  In  1835,  on 
the  occasion  of  the  thirtieth  anniversary  of  his  ordination,  he 
preached  a  sermon,  wherein  he  gave  an  account  of  the  reli- 
gious movement  in  New  England  and  of  his  own  theological 
position.  "This,"  he  said,  "is  known  by  the  name  of  the 
Unitarian  controversy,  and  in  so  naming  it,  I  believe  that  I 
am  giving  utterance,  for  the  first  time  in  this  desk,  to  that 
party  word."  This  abstention  from  the  use  of  the  name 
Unitarianism  he  took  to  be  the  illustration  of  the  attitude  of 
his  people.  But  he  went  on  to  define  his  position,  and  that 
of  his  congregation,  in  the  years  when  the  schism  was  in 
progress :  — 

We  silently  assumed  the  ground,  or  rather  found  ourselvep 
1  Boston  Unitarianism,  pp.  41,  42. 


xr.  3]  EARLY   LIFE  39 

standing  upon  it,  that  there  was  no  warrant  in  the  Scripture  for 
the  idea  of  a  threefold  personality  in  the  divine  nature ;  or  for 
that  of  atonement,  according  to  the  popular  understanding  of  that 
word;  or  for  that  of  man's  total  corruption  and  inability;  or  for 
that  of  an  eternity  of  woe  adjudged  as  the  punishment  of  earthly 
offences;  or  indeed  for  any  of  the  peculiar  articles  of  that  scheme 
of  faith  which  went  under  the  name  of  the  Genevan  reformer.  .  .  . 
We  have  made  more  account  of  religious  sentiment  than  of  theo- 
logical opinions.1 

The  special  interest  here  attaching  to  this  sermon  is  that 
the  mother  of  Phillips  Brooks  may  be  supposed  to  have  been 
present  when  it  was  delivered,  and  if  so  a  deeply  interested 
hearer,  but  already  aware  that  she  was  far  from  being  in 
sympathy  with  the  preacher's  utterances.  She  had  never 
been  identified  with  the  Unitarian  movement,  although  in 
her  uncle's  family  she  enjoyed  the  society  of  those  whose  an- 
tecedents differed  so  widely  from  her  own.  The  church  at 
North  Andover  which  her  parents  attended  had  indeed  swung 
into  line  with  the  liberal  school  in  1810,  when  the  Rev.  Bailey 
Loring  was  ordained  its  pastor.  He  had  been  trained  as  an 
Arminian,  and  the  congregation  was  for  the  most  part  averse 
to  the  rigid  Calvinism,  which  was  still  accepted  in  the  parish 
of  South  Andover.  Mr.  Loring  proved  so  attractive  as  a 
preacher  and  pastor  that  for  twenty-four  years  there  was  no 
division  in  the  congregation.  But  in  1834  the  schism  had 
been  manifested  there  by  the  creation  of  a  new  evangelical 
church,  as  it  was  called,  in  which  the  dissentients  from  Mr. 
Loring' s  teaching  took  refuge.  Mrs.  Brooks  was  therefore 
familiar  with  the  staple  features  of  the  controversy  then  going 
on  in  the  towns  and  villages  of  Massachusetts.  She  was  at 
this  time  twenty-seven  years  of  age,  already  alive  to  the 
coming  responsibilities  of  training  a  family  of  children,  and 
more  than  ever  inclined  to  look  to  the  faith  and  examples  of 
her  ancestors,  as  precedents  which  she  preferred  to  follow. 
She  was  not  satisfied  with  the  preaching  of  her  kinsman  and 
pastor,  Dr.  Frothingham.  The  lines  were  being  sharply 
drawn  in  religious  opinion,  and  she  must  have  felt  forced  to 
come  to  a  decision.  It  was  too  much  for  her  to  be  told  that 

1  Boston  Unitarianism,  p.  67. 


40  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1839 

the  religious  faith  of  her  ancestors,  of  her  father  and  her 
grandfather,  who  had  founded  the  Andover  Seminary  for  the 
preservation  and  more  vigorous  maintenance  of  the  system 
known  as  Calvinistic,  —  that  this  faith  had  no  warrant  in 
Scripture,  as  Dr.  Frothingham  had  asserted  in  his  commem- 
oration discourse.  The  deep  springs  of  her  nature,  her  vast 
capacity  for  loving  devotion,  her  possibilities  of  boundless 
enthusiasm,  the  intense  and  powerful  will,  the  longing  for 
personal  and  immediate  conscious  relationship  with  God,  the 
desire  to  give  herself  in  complete  self-sacrifice  to  Christ  as 
Lord  and  supreme  master,  these  deep  religious  instincts 
found  no  satisfaction  in  the  gentler  but  unheroic  gospel,  as 
proclaimed  by  Dr.  Frothingham. 

It  may  have  been  the  effect  of  the  Unitarian  atmosphere  in 
which  she  had  moved,  that  in  the  readjustment  of  her  ecclesi- 
astical relations,  she  did  not  seek  to  return  to  the  orthodox 
party  of  the  Congregational  order.  Or  it  may  have  been  that 
she  was  unwilling  thus  to  defy  the  claims  of  society  and 
kindred  with  what  would  seem  like  a  retrogressive  step.  Her 
husband's  feelings,  too,  were  to  be  considered,  as  well  as  her 
own.  But  there  was  the  possibility  of  compromise  in  the  Epis- 
copal Church,  where  the  old  familiar  gospel  was  preached,  and 
yet  without  the  painful  reminders  of  schism  and  contro- 
versy. The  Episcopal  Church  in  Boston  at  this  time  was  still 
weak,  just  beginning  to  recover  from  the  opprobrium  of  its 
identification  with  the  national  Church  of  England.  It  pos- 
sessed but  three  churches,  Christ  Church  on  Salem  Street,  or 
the  Old  North  Church  as  it  was  called,  Trinity  Church 
on  Summer  Street,  and  the  new  St.  Paul's,  built  in  1819, 
on  Tremont  Street.  To  this  latter  Mrs.  Brooks  turned 
her  attention  as  affording  the  possibilities  of  a  religious 
home. 

It  might  have  seemed  as  though  in  throwing  in  her  lot 
with  the  Episcopal  Church  Mrs.  Brooks  was  breaking  vio- 
lently and  rudely  with  the  Puritan  traditions  of  two  centu- 
ries. Against  its  bishops  and  its  liturgy,  the  Puritans  had 
made  their  protest,  as  unscriptural ;  and  this  protest  had 
ripened  into  indignation  when  bishops  became  the  agents  of 


*rr.  3]  EARLY   LIFE  41 

the  crown  for  enforcing  the  obnoxious  Book  of  Common 
Prayer.  But  all  this  had  now  become  a  thing  of  the  remote 
past,  with  which  she  was  unfamiliar.  It  was  to  her  mind  a 
greater  break  with  the  past,  a  more  violent  wrench  to  sacred 
feelings  of  reverence,  to  be  told  that  the  creed  of  her  ances- 
tors had  no  warrant  in  Scripture.  It  was  fortunate,  there- 
fore, for  her  that  she  came  into  contact  with  the  Episcopal 
Church  at  a  moment  when  the  type  of  religion  and  of  reli- 
gious life  for  which  she  yearned  was  represented  ably  and 
eloquently  by  what  is  known  as  the  Evangelical  or  the  Low 
Church  School.  This  movement,  or  party,  which  dates  back 
in  the  Church  of  England  to  the  time  of  Whitefield,  was  at 
this  moment  in  the  fulness  of  its  influence.  The  word  "evan- 
gelical" had  come  into  use  in  the  eighteenth  century  to  de- 
scribe that  phase  of  religion  which  embraced  certain  ecclesi- 
astical bodies,  Presbyterian,  Congregational,  Methodist,  and 
Baptist,  in  one  common  purpose,  —  the  gospel  of  Christ,  as 
consisting  in  deliverance  from  sin  and  from  penalty  through 
the  atonement  upon  the  cross.  It  was  not  primarily  an  intel- 
lectual movement,  whose  aim  was  the  adjustment  of  theolo- 
gical tenets,  but  rather  an  intensely  practical  purpose.  Its 
adherents  alike  agreed  in  teaching  the  necessity  of  conversion 
as  the  first  step  in  the  religious  life.  It  enforced  also  the 
cultus  of  an  inward  experience  of  the  divine  life  in  the  soul, 
magnifying  the  person  of  Christ  as  the  motive  power  of 
Christian  development,  through  conscious  union  with  whom 
alone  could  salvation  be  secured. 

It  was  a  propitious  moment  for  Mrs.  Brooks  that  she  turned 
to  the  Episcopal  Church  when  this  teaching  was  heard  in 
many  of  its  most  influential  pulpits.  Dr.  John  S.  Stone  was 
then  the  rector  of  St.  Paul's  Church,  afterwards  to  become 
the  first  Dean  of  the  Episcopal  Theological  School  in  Cam- 
bridge. He  was  a  representative  and  foremost  champion  of 
the  evangelical  attitude.  As  a  preacher,  he  was  strong  and 
eloquent,  one  of  the  pulpit  orators  of  his  day,  and  with  an 
inspired  gift  of  exhortation  which  moved  deeply  the  hearts 
of  his  hearers.  His  presence  in  the  pulpit  was  in  itself 
almost  a  sermon,  for  he  was  a  singularly  handsome  man  and 


4*  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1839 

gifted  with  a  most  winning  address.  Under  his  ministrations 
St.  Paul's  Church  prospered  exceedingly,  his  influence  was 
great,  and  he  was  much  beloved. 

To  Dr.  Stone,  then,  Mrs.  Brooks  turned  in  her  perplexity. 
Many  and  long  and  anxious  were  the  conversations  which  she 
held  with  him,  for  the  issues  at  stake  were  momentous.  There 
was  the  Prayer  Book  to  be  studied  and  explained,  usages  also, 
and  polity,  for  she  was  determined  to  accept  nothing  against 
her  conscience  or  reason.  Then,  also,  there  was  the  baptism 
of  the  children  to  be  considered,  the  two  elder  of  whom  had 
received  the  rite  at  the  hands  of  Dr.  Frothingham.  There 
may  have  been  some  misgivings  at  this  point,  for  the  third 
son  George  had  been  baptized  by  another  minister  who 
adhered  to  the  orthodox  Puritanism.  On  these  points,  Dr. 
Stone  gave  wise  and  Catholic  guidance.  The  baptism  should 
be  allowed  to  stand,  and  was  not  to  be  repeated,  for  it  had 
not  been  baptism  into  any  particular  form  of  Christianity, 
but  into  the  sacred  name,  and  the  usage  had  been  followed  of 
invoking  the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost.  Thus  without 
the  consciousness  of  any  abandonment  of  what  was  essential 
in  the  worship  of  her  fathers,  Mrs.  Brooks,  together  with 
her  sister,  Susan  Phillips,  was  admitted  into  the  Episcopal 
Church.  This  was  in  the  year  1839,  when  Phillips  Brooks 
was  but  four  years  old,  unable  to  remember  any  earlier  asso- 
ciations than  those  connected  with  St.  Paul's,  as  the  church 
of  his  infancy. 

The  husband  and  father  does  not  appear  as  sharing  at  this 
time  in  the  religious  difficulties  which  his  wife  felt  so  keenly ; 
but  in  his  journal  he  has  recorded  the  event  of  the  transition 
from  the  First  Church  to  St.  Paul's. 

October  18,  1839. 

We  have  made  an  important  movement  this  month  so  far  as  to 
change  our  place  of  religious  worship.  We  have  now  attended  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Frothingham 's  church  in  Chauncy  Place  since  we  were 
married,  just  six  years;  but  wife  was  never  much  pleased  with 
Mr.  F.  's  liberal  style  of  preaching,  and  after  a  good  deal  of  con- 
sideration and  reflection  we  concluded  to  change,  and  we  have  got 
a  pew  at  St.  Paul's  (Episcopalian),  where  Rev.  Dr.  Stone  officiates. 
It  is  at  all  times  unpleasant  changing  our  habits  and  places  of 


*r.4]  EARLY   LIFE  43 

resort.  For  myself,  I  feel  myself  attached  to  the  Unitarian 
Church,  having  been  brought  up  to  that  doctrine ;  but  at  the  same 
time  I  cannot  say  I  have  so  much  repugnance  to  the  Orthodox 
sect  as  many  have ;  the  example  of  one  of  the  best  mothers  would 
forbid  it.  Being,  therefore,  as  I  myself  say,  indifferent,  I  gave 
up  my  inclinations  and  prejudices  for  my  old  place  of  worship  to 
gratify  that  of  my  wife.  Certain  it  is  that  women  make  religion 
more  a  matter  of  conscience  and  the  heart  than  men  do.  On 
many  accounts  I  regretted  leaving  Dr.  Frothingham's  church. 

One  may  detect  in  this  extract  the  wife's  influence,  as 
though  her  husband  were  trying  to  bring  himself  to  her  point 
of  view,  but  not  altogether  with  success.  He  had  acquiesced, 
he  had  sought  to  persuade  himself  that  her  estimate  of  Dr. 
Frothingham's  preaching  was  the  true  one,  but  it  is  evident 
enough  that  his  dominant  mood  was  one  of  regret  at  the 
change.  Again,  a  year  later,  he  makes  another  entrance  in 
his  journal  on  this  subject :  — 

November  1, 1840  (Sunday). 

Beautiful  pleasant  day.  Attended  church  for  the  first  time  for 
eighteen  weeks,  — a  length  of  time,  I  can  truly  say,  I  never  was 
absent  before  since  I  was  old  enough  to  attend.  It  is  now  about 
a  year  since  we  began  to  attend  at  the  Episcopal  Church.  It  was 
quite  a  change  to  make  both  in  the  manner  of  the  service  and  in 
the  matter  and  sentiment  that  are  preached.  But  I  cannot  say  I 
regret  the  change  on  that  account.  Dr.  Stone,  the  rector  of  St. 
Paul's,  is  a  sound  preacher,  and  a  good  sermonizer,  at  times  rather 
too  argumentative,  but  this  ought  not  to  be  considered  an  objec- 
tion of  consequence.  The  morning  service  is  rather  long,  and  to 
one  not  much  interested  is  at  times  tedious,  but  the  afternoon  ser- 
vice is  a  very  agreeable  one.  But  with  these  objections  I  feel  no 
wish  to  go  back  to  the  dull  and  dry  services  of  the  Unitarian 
Church  we  left. 

As  the  years  go  on  the  journal  gives  evidence  of  a  deeper 
personal  interest  in  the  church  of  his  adoption.  When  Dr. 
Stone  resigned  the  charge  of  St.  Paul's,  it  was  to  be  suc- 
ceeded by  Rev.  A.  H.  Vinton,  who  continued  his  work  with 
great  power.  The  first  appearance  and  sermon  of  Dr.  Vinton 
made  an  impression  upon  Mr.  Brooks.  He  witnessed  also  a 
confirmation  service,  and  was  struck  with  its  beauty  and  sig- 
nificance. On  Christmas  Day,  1846,  he  remarks :  — 


44  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1846 

The  day  has  been  more  observed  as  a  holiday  than  I  have  ever 
before  seen  it  in  this  city.  Nearly  all  the  places  of  business  of 
the  merchants  of  India,  Long,  Central,  and  the  other  principal 
wharves  and  the  wholesale  stores  of  Milk  Street  and  vicinity  were 
closed  throughout  the  day ;  the  Insurance  offices  of  State  Street 
also.  St.  Paul's  Church  was  very  crowded.  The  sermon  was  by 
Bishop  Potter  of  Pennsylvania,  formerly  Rector  of  the  Church. 
Among  the  auditors  I  noticed  a  clergyman  of  the  Orthodox,  Bap- 
tist, and  Unitarian  societies,  which  shows  that  the  bitterness  of 
sectarianism  is  giving  way ;  and  no  better  proof  of  it  can  be  want- 
ing than  the  increase  of  the  observance  of  this  holy  day.  A  very 
different  feeling  prompted  the  Puritans  to  enact  a  law  that  "any 
found  In  the  observance  of  Christmas  should  be  fined  five  shil- 
lings." This  was  about  1650. 

A  few  months  later  there  is  this  impressive  entry  in  his 
journal :  — 

Sunday,  May  30, 1847. 

To  record  my  thoughts  of  this  day  would  be  an  utter  impos- 
sibility. My  actions  may  be  easier  recorded,  and  may  the  thought 
that  they  are  also  recorded  elsewhere  be  a  high  motive  to  stimu- 
late me  to  always  keep  the  actions  and  feelings  of  this  day  in 
view,  never  to  lose  sight  of  the  principles  which  actuated  me  to 
go  forward  as  I  did  this  day  and  join  in  the  rite  of  confirmation 
at  St.  Paul's  Church.  It  is  taking  a  great  responsibility,  and  I 
should  say  a  fearful  one,  if  I  relied  only  on  my  own  powers  to 
keep  it.  But  there  is  a  higher  power  to  aid  us,  to  assist  us ;  if 
we  but  ask  in  faith,  we  shall  receive  the  assistance  needed.  This 
act  is  by  no  sudden  impulse  of  feeling  with  me,  but  by  the  gradual 
and  long  course  of  attention  to  the  subject,  and  finally,  by  the 
grace  of  God  so  operating  on  my  heart  as  to  view  it  as  a  duty 
and  an  act  of  filial  reverence  and  affection.  The  rite  was  per- 
formed by  Rev.  Bishop  Eastburn,  and  the  class  consisted  of  nine 
persons,  of  whom  I  presume  I  was  the  eldest.  In  pursuing  this 
course  I  have  been  much  assisted  in  advice  by  our  rector,  Rev. 
Dr.  Vinton,  and  for  advice  and  encouragement  no  less  to  my  dear 
wife,  who  has  been  a  member  of  this  Church  now  seven  years. 
God  grant  that  the  union  to  both  of  us  may  be  blessed,  and  that 
hereafter  we  may  walk  together  as  one  in  Christ  as  our  head  and 
guide. 

To  this  step  Mr.  Brooks  refers  again  in  his  journal  for 
October  12,  1847,  which  was  his  birthday,  as  having  made 
the  past  year  the  most  important  in  his  life.  The  renewal  of 


JET.  6]  EARLY  LIFE  45 

the  "vows  made  for  me  at  baptism  "  gave  him,  as  he  says,  a 
deeper  pleasure  in  life  and  an  increased  interest  in  all  observ- 
ances of  religion.  And  again,  on  Christmas  Day,  1847,  he 
writes:  "Truly,  the  first  Christmas  I  have  ever  spent  as  it 
ought  to  be  spent.  For,  though  I  have  attended  the  services 
of  the  Church  the  past  three  or  four  years  on  that  day,  I  have 
never  before  attended  that  other  and  most  comforting  and 
elevating  accompaniment,  the  communion." 

At  the  time  when  he  took  this  step,  Mr.  Brooks  had 
reached  the  age  of  forty-two.  The  elder  children  must  have 
been  present  as  thoughtful  witnesses  of  the  transaction, 
Phillips  Brooks  being  then  a  boy  of  twelve.  We  may  also 
picture  the  mother,  now  becoming  anxious  that  her  sons 
should  soon  follow  their  father  in  this  -deed  of  self-consecra- 
tion to  the  highest.  To  her  it  meant  inexpressible  depths 
of  religious  feeling,  gratitude,  and  hope,  and  yet  the  endless 
solicitude. 

The  coming  of  Dr.  Vinton  to  St.  Paul's  was  a  great  event 
in  the  Brooks  family,  destined  to  influence  its  fortunes  in  the 
case  of  all  the  children,  no  less  than  the  religious  life  and 
belief  of  the  parents.  In  the  year  1842,  when  he  began  his 
rectorship,  Phillips  Brooks  was  six  years  old,  and  from 
that  time  until  he  graduated  from  Harvard  College  and  en- 
tered upon  the  preparation  for  the  ministry,  he  was  under 
the  influence  of  this  strong  personality.  Dr.  Vinton  had 
a  majestic  appearance  in  the  pulpit,  the  physical  basis  for 
oratory.  His  voice  corresponded  with  his  appearance,  strong, 
rich,  and  full.  As  an  imposing  and  manly  representative 
of  the  clerical  profession,  he  was  imaged  in  bronze  upon  the 
Soldiers'  Monument  on  Boston  Common,  in  the  act  of  blessing 
the  troops  on  their  departure  for  the  war.  In  the  Episcopal 
Church  he  stood  as  its  foremost  preacher,  influential  also  in 
its  administrative  councils.  He,  too,  like  Dr.  Stone,  was 
of  the  evangelical  school,  enforcing  the  atonement  of  Christ 
as  the  supreme  doctrine  of  the  gospel  of  deliverance,  urging 
also  an  inward  conversion  as  the  condition  of  its  acceptance. 
He  was  a  man  of  an  intellectual  order,  a  logician,  an  earnest 
apologist  for  the  faith,  keen  to  see  the  weakness  or  the 


46  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1842 

inadequacy  of  an  opponent's  attitude.  He  had  the  evangelical 
conception  of  the  pastor's  office.  It  was  to  him  a  great  ideal, 
which  he  had  left  the  medical  profession  in  order  to  serve. 
He  entered  into  close  relations  with  the  Brooks  family, 
becoming  an  integral  part,  as  it  were,  of  the  life  and  career 
of  Phillips  Brooks. 

Among  the  features  of  his  ministry  at  St.  Paul's,  one  of 
the  most  important  was  a  Bible  class,  where  he  explained 
Christian  doctrines,  or  commented  on  the  Epistle  and  Gospel 
for  the  day,  or  at  times  took  up  the  books  of  Scripture.  To 
the  sessions  of  this  Bible  class  Mrs.  Brooks  went  regularly, 
going  with  a  purpose,  in  order  that  she  might  better  teach 
her  children.  She  gave  to  them  in  her  own  impressive  way 
what  Dr.  Vinton  had  given  to  her.  In  this  task  of  teaching 
her  children  religion  she  was  diligent  and  indefatigable, 
laboring  with  a  concentrated  purpose  in  season  and  out  of 
season,  never  for  a  moment  forgetful  of  her  mission,  quick 
to  seize  the  passing  moment  which  seemed  fertile  for  oppor- 
tunity, but  withal  gentle  and  alluring,  and  making  religion 
attractive.  The  children's  earliest  remembrance  of  her  was 
at  their  bedside,  repeating  to  them  Bible  stories  as  they 
were  going  to  sleep.  She  did  not  relax  her  sense  of  religious 
responsibility  when  childhood  passed  into  youth.  Even  after 
her  sons  had  entered  the  ministry,  she  continued  to  watch 
and  guard  them  as  if  they  were  in  danger  of  beguilement 
with  false  doctrines. 

On  Sundays  the  rule  was  to  go  to  church  twice.  It  was 
also  the  custom  of  the  children  to  learn  a  hymn  every  Sun- 
day, to  be  recited  at  the  family  gathering  in  the  evening. 
These  hymns  were  mostly  from  the  collection  in  the  Prayer 
Book,  but  there  were  others.  When  Phillips  went  to  college 
there  were  some  two  hundred  that  he  could  repeat.  They 
constituted  part  of  his  religious  furniture,  or  the  soil  whence 
grew  much  that  cannot  now  be  traced.  He  never  forgot 
them.  Then,  too,  for  a  time  he  kept  a  little  Sunday  journal, 
or,  more  accurately,  the  "Sabbath  Note-Book,"  prepared  by 
the  Massachusetts  Sunday-School  Society,  in  which  he  re- 
corded his  time  of  rising,  the  chapter  from  the  Bible  which 


JOT.  3]  EARLY   LIFE  47 

he  read,  the  preacher  and  his  text  at  morning  and  evening 
service.  This  was  for  the  year  1847-1848,  when  he  was 
twelve. 

From  the  religious  training  of  the  household  we  may  turn 
to  a  few  details  of  the  more  familiar  domestic  side  of  the 
picture.  Here  is  a  glimpse  of  the  mother  with  her  young 
children,  in  1839,  when  Phillips  had  not  long  passed  his 
third  birthday,  in  a  letter  to  her  husband,  who  was  absent 
from  home.  Among  the  messages  of  the  children  to  their 
father  is  one  from  Phillips,  asking  for  a  red-handled  knife 
and  fork. 

BOSTON,  February  13, 1839. 

...  I  got  your  letter  this  afternoon,  and  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  glad  I  was  to  hear  from  you.  Oh,  how  much  I  have  thought 
about  you,  and  wanted  to  see  you,  and  talked  about  you  to  the  chil- 
dren. I  shall  be  glad  indeed  when  the  three  weeks  are  out.  Still 
I  am  very  glad  that  you  went,  for  I  keep  thinking  how  much  good 
the  change  is  going  to  do  you ;  I  shall  expect  to  see  you  come 
home  a  new  man.  I  had  meant  to  spend  all  this  evening  writing 
to  you,  but  as  usual  it  is  nearly  10  o'clock  and  I  am  just  begin- 
ning to  write,  for  Uncle  Brooks  has  just  left,  and  he  says  he  shall 
come  in  very  often  in  my  "widowed  state,"  so  I  shall  be  prepared 
for  his  visits.  I  have  not  dared  to  name  the  party  to  him,  or 
rather  I  thought  it  best  not  to  do  so,  till  I  knew  something  more 
certain  about  it.  Mrs.  Frothingham  has  been  in,  but  of  course 
said  nothing  about  it.  ...  My  letter  begins  to  look  awfully,  but 
I  am  not  going  to  make  any  excuse  for  it,  for  you  say  mine  always 
do,  and  I  know  you  '11  say,  or  at  least  think  so  about  this,  but 
then  you  will  get  all  the  longer  one  for  it,  because  I  can  write  so 
much  faster  when  /  don't  mind,  as  the  boys  say. 

The  boys  have  been  very  good.  .  .  .  They  have  given  me  so 
many  messages  that  I  'm  sure  I  cannot  deliver  them  all.  One  of 
William's  is  that  his  saw  is  broken,  and  that  he  has  laid  it  by  for 
you  to  mend  it,  when  you  get  home,  and  that  the  "  little  boys  "  want 
to  ride  with  Mama  and  her  pleasant  man.  Phillips  says,  "Tell 
Papa  I  have  learned  to  use  a  fork ;  "  and  especially  I  want  to  ask 
you  if  he  may  not  have  his  hammer  while  you  are  gone,  because 
he  is  done  breaking  the  basement  now;  and  he  wonders  why  you 
did  not  give  it  to  him  before  you  went  away.  William  says  you 
must  tell  in  the  letter  you  write  him  whether  Phillips  may  have 
it  again,  and  where  it  is.  He  says  you  must  write  his  letter  with 
"book  letters  "  or  he  cannot  read  it,  that  is,  print  it.  I  would 


48  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1839 

advise  you  not  to  spend  much  upon  toys  for  them,  as  I  am  more 
for  the  useful  for  them.  William  says  he  hopes  you  will  get  him 
a  new  book ;  and  Phillips  says  he  wants  you  to  bring  him  a  red- 
handled  knife  and  fork ;  and  I  think  their  choice  is  pretty  good. 
I  went  to  ride  with  them  yesterday,  as  I  proposed,  into  Washing- 
ton Street,  and  had  pretty  good  luck  with  my  shopping;  they 
were  delighted  with  their  ride.  ...  I  wonder  where  you  will  be 
on  Sunday.  The  next  Sunday  I  want  you  to  go  to  an  Episcopal 
Church  if  it  is  in  your  power,  to  please  me.  My  conscience  re- 
proaches me  greatly  for  my  neglect  in  not  putting  the  Bible  in 
your  trunk,  as  I  intended.  .  .  . 

The  life  of  the  children  was  diversified  by  visits  to  their 
uncle's  home  in  Medford,  and  especially  in  the  summers  to 
the  old  homestead  in  North  Andover,  where  the  grandmother 
was  still  living,  venerated  and  beloved.  Left  a  widow  at  a 
comparatively  early  age,  with  the  responsibilities  of  a  large 
family  and  the  trials  of  a  small  income,  she  had  maintained 
herself  in  honor  and  dignity,  making  her  home  an  attractive 
spot,  the  centre  of  interest  and  devotion  to  the  scattered  and 
expanding  family,  until  her  death  in  1856.  We  get  glimpses 
of  Phillips  Brooks  and  his  brothers  in  these  summer  migra- 
tions, where  they  felt  the  charm  of  country  life  with  its  wider 
opportunities  for  diversion.  There  they  could  fly  their  kites, 
which  they  made  in  the  shed  attached  to  the  house,  encoun- 
tering as  their  chief  obstacle  an  insufficient  amount  of  twine 
for  the  loftiest  flight.  They  got  into  mischief  also  by  too 
venturesome  a  spirit.  Once  they  discovered  a  light  wagon 
at  the  side  of  the  "yard,"  which  they  dragged  out,  and  as  the 
ground  sloped  rapidly,  the  wagon  wheels  ran  easily  down  the 
incline  until  it  crashed  into  the  fence,  destroying  the  shafts 
and  injuring  the  trap.  Another  remarkable  exploit  is  re- 
membered, when  they  put  up  the  blinds  of  an  adjacent  shop, 
where  everything  was  kept  which  could  be  demanded  in  a 
village,  and  locked  themselves  in  for  the  purpose  of  solving 
the  rich  mystery  of  its  contents.  The  moment  chosen  for  this 
venture  was  the  temporary  absence  of  the  owner  of  the  shop, 
who,  in  tbe  simplicity  of  country  life,  did  not  realize  how 
keen  might  be  the  wits  of  boys  from  the  city.  But  they 
encountered  their  aunt's  remonstrances  and  threats  to  cut 


XT.  6]  EARLY   LIFE  49 

short  their  visit,  and  when  they  did  go  home  they  carried 
with  them  to  their  mother  a  document  complaining  of  their 
misconduct.  One  of  the  earliest  recollections  of  the  oldest 
brother  was  a  great  plan  he  conceived  to  hire  a  horse  and 
buggy  and  take  "Philly  "  for  a  drive.  As  he  was  but  five 
years  old  and  his  younger  brother  not  yet  four,  his  scheme 
met  with  a  cold  reception.  The  howling  of  the  two  boys 
when  the  plan  was  negatived  became  historic  in  the  family. 
The  summers  at  North  Andover  were  not  wholly  given  up  to 
recreation.  The  boys  attended  a  "district  school"  for  some 
hours  every  day,  and  were  also  trained  to  work. 

When  he  was  four  years  old,  Phillips  was  sent  to  a  private 
school  on  Bedford  Street,  kept  by  Miss  Capen,  where  he  re- 
mained till  he  was  old  enough  to  be  transferred  to  the  gram- 
mar school.  An  incident  is  remembered  in  connection  with 
this  early  stage  of  his  education.  He  came  home  crying  one 
day  because  he  had  been  told  he  must  write  a  composition. 
The  family  consoled  and  encouraged  him,  and  the  composi- 
tion was  furnished,  it  was  understood,  with  extraneous  aid  in 
its  preparation.  The  subject  was  "The  Elephant."  There 
is  preserved  also  a  letter  sent  by  Phillips  to  his  mother,  when 
he  was  in  his  seventh  year.  It  covers  a  large  page  of  fools- 
cap, for  he  had  not  yet  learned  to  write,  with  the  exception 
of  his  name,  and  his  printing  required  space.  The  letter  is 
given  here,  but  it  lacks  something  of  the  impressiveness  of 
the  original.  It  was  regarded  as  a  literary  achievement,  and 
was  known  in  the  family  as  "Phillips'  letter  about  the 
pears." 

Andover      August    20th    1842 
My   dear     Mother    i    hope    you 
have     got     well     enough     to 
get     down    stairs    now.      howd 
o  e  s    the    baby    do    and     little 
George     to.         send     my     lov 
e      to     aunt      Susan      and     t 
ell     her     that     i     want       to 
see         her          grandmot 
her        sent         us        some 
pears     but      miss     peters 


50  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1842 

•    aid      that       we      mast     n 
ot       eat      them      but      she      • 
aid      that     we     might     ask 
you      if      we       might      eat 
some      of       them      will 
you     let     us     eat     some      of 
them      you      can      send      us 
word       hy      Father      wet 
her      we       can       eat       some 
how       does       aunt       SUsan 
do        your         affect 
Friend 

PHILLIPS       BROOKS 

The  child  is  father  of  the  man.  A  study  of  this  letter  dis- 
closes some  interesting  particulars.  In  his  seventh  year,  he 
had  not  yet  reached  the  consciousness  of  individual  distinc- 
tion, for  he  fails  to  use  the  capital  I  when  referring  to  him- 
self. But  he  uses  capitals  when  referring  to  his  father,  his 
mother,  and  his  aunt.  He  pays  some  attention  to  punctua- 
tion in  the  early  sentences;  but  when  he  plunges  into  the 
heart  of  his  subject  he  finds  no  use  for  it ;  it  would  only  retard 
him  in  his  eagerness  for  expression.  He  begins  his  letter  and 
he  closes  it  with  courteous  remarks  and  inquiries,  but  these 
are  subsidiary  to  his  great  theme.  When  he  comes  to  treat 
the  subject  of  the  pears,  he  manages  to  make  it  stand  out 
supreme ;  he  fills  out  his  sentences  at  the  risk  of  overmuch 
repetition  in  order  to  make  his  meaning  clear.  There  are  no 
ellipses,  no  taking  of  the  meaning  for  granted,  no  sacrificing 
of  clearness  to  elegance  of  expression.  When  his  treatment 
of  his  theme  satisfied  him  with  its  completeness,  he  must  have 
felt  the  abruptness  of  closing  his  letter  at  once,  or  he  may 
have  been  dimly  conscious  that  his  exigency  looked  like  self- 
ishness and  did  not  fully  represent  him.  He  lets  himself 
down  from  the  heights,  by  another  polite  inquiry  after  his 
aunt  Susan's  health,  which  he  had  neglected  to  make  in  his 
introduction.  His  aunt  Susan  Phillips  formed  an  important 
part  of  the  household  from  the  first,  and  was  greatly  endeared 
to  all  the  children.  Their  sportive  humor  and  freedom  led 
them  to  speak  of  her  as  "Susan,"  or  "Miss  Susan/'  in  imita- 


XT.  10]  EARLY   LIFE  51 

tion  of  their  parents'  usage.  She  upheld  the  discipline  of  the 
mother,  and  was  equal  to  the  emergencies  of  boyish  criticism. 
The  devotion  of  the  children  to  their  mother  is  illustrated  by 
a  Christmas  present,  with  an  accompanying  letter,  in  1846, 
when  Phillips  was  eleven  years  old.  The  excitement  and 
fulness  of  the  moment  may  explain  why  the  letter  itself  is  in 
the  father's  handwriting,  who  also  contributed  to  the  sen- 
timents to  be  expressed.  Only  the  signatures,  still  very 
crude  in  their  penmanship,  were  contributed  by  the  boys. 

DEAR  MOTHER. 

Being  sensible  of  the  many  kindnesses  which  you  have  bestowed 
upon  us  and  the  interest  you  take  in  our  studies,  we  feel  thankful 
to  you  for  them,  and  wish  you  to  accept  the  accompanying  pencil 
case  as  a  Christmas  gift  from 

Your  affectionate  sons, 

WM.  G.  BROOKS,  JR., 
PHILLIPS  BROOKS, 
G.  BROOKS. 
BOSTON,  Dec.  25,  1846. 

There  is  a  story  of  his  childhood,  of  which  the  exact  date 
is  forgotten,  but  it  may  appropriately  be  given  here.  As  the 
boys  sat  one  evening  in  the  back  parlor  about  the  table,  with 
their  slates  and  pencils,  getting  ready  for  the  next  day, 
Phillips  played  with  his  pencil,  a  new  one,  freshly  sharpened, 
putting  it  further  and  further  into  his  mouth,  until  at  last  it 
went  down  his  throat.  He  asked  his  mother  what  would 
happen  if  any  one  should  swallow  a  pencil.  She  answered 
that  she  supposed  it  would  kill  him.  Phillips  kept  silence, 
and  his  mother  made  no  further  inquiry. 

After  leaving  the  school  kept  by  Miss  Capen,  he  had  gone 
in  1843,  at  the  age  of  eight,  to  the  public  grammar  school, 
known  as  the  Adams  School,  then  situated  on  Mason  Street. 
A  schoolmate  writes  of  him  as  he  recalls  him  at  this  time : 
"How  well  I  remember  a  characteristic  of  his.  When  school 
was  out,  we  boys  would  be  on  the  keen  jump  for  the  near-by 
Common  for  games :  ball,  hockey,  cricket,  marbles,  etc.  Not 
so  Phillips  Brooks.  But  to  the  right,  down  West  Street, 
across  Washington,  down  Bedford,  to  his  home,  wended  he 


5a  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1843 

his  way.  Never  did  I  see  him,  to  my  recollection,  go  the 
other  way  to  the  Common  to  mingle  with  us  other  boys  in  our 
play."  But  if  he  was  not  active  in  the  games  of  his  school- 
fellows, he  yet  gained  the  benefit  which  came  from  associa- 
tion with  them.  The  public  schools  of  Boston  were  then 
more  homogeneous  than  they  are  now,  but  they  possessed  the 
characteristics  of  public  schools  in  that  boys  of  all  classes  and 
characters  met  together  in  them,  high  and  low,  rich  and  poor, 
one  with  another.  Any  tendency  towards  class  or  other  dis- 
tinctions was  subordinated,  to  the  supreme  inference  that  a 
boy  must  stand  and  be  measured  by  his  own  inherent  worth. 
In  this  there  was  a  certain  preparation  for  the  coming  man 
and  for  the  preacher,  part  of  whose  training  lay  in  develop- 
ing his  insight  into  a  wide  and  varied  experience  of  men.  In 
the  sensitive  years  of  his  boyhood,  when  his  power  of  obser- 
vation was  most  active,  he  was  learning  to  study  human  souls 
and  the  workings  of  human  nature.  To  this  may  be  traced 
a  certain  feature  in  the  man  when  he  reached  maturity.  It 
was  a  ruling  desire  with  him  to  be  regarded  as  in  no  way 
exceptional ;  he  was  sensitive  as  a  child  could  be  to  anything 
that  was  odd  in  behavior  or  expression;  the  word  "queer" 
was  his  favorite  expression  for  anything  he  encountered  out 
of  the  ordinary  course  of  life  or  opinion.  The  levelling  influ- 
ence of  the  public  school  had  done  its  work. 

From  the  Adams  School,  he  passed  at  the  age  of  eleven, 
in  the  year  1846,  to  the  Boston  Latin  School,  whose  location 
was  then  in  Bedford  Street.  Previous  to  its  transfer  to  Bed- 
ford Street,  it  had  its  home  in  School  Street,  nearly  oppo- 
site City  Hall.  Among  the  reminiscences  in  which  he  in- 
dulged many  years  later  (1881),  when  he  was  making  his 
famous  address  at  the  dedication  of  the  present  Latin  School 
building,  there  is  one  that  deserves  a  place  in  the  history  of 
his  boyhood :  — 

I  have  always  remembered  —  it  seemed  but  a  passing  impres- 
sion at  the  moment,  but  it  has  never  left  me  —  how  one  day,  when 
I  was  going  home  from  the  old  Adams  School  in  Mason  Street,  I 
saw  a  little  group  of  people  gathered  down  in  Bedford  Street; 
and,  with  a  boy's  curiosity,  I  went  into  the  crowd,  and  peeped 


*T.  n]          THE  LATIN  SCHOOL  53 

around  among  the  big  men  who  were  in  my  way  to  see  what  they 
were  doing.  I  found  that  they  were  laying  the  corner  stone  of 
a  new  schoolhouse.  I  always  felt,  after  that,  when  I  was  a 
scholar  and  a  teacher  there,  and  ever  since,  that  I  had  a  little 
more  right  in  that  schoolhouse  because  I  had  happened,  by  that 
accident  of  passing  home  that  way  that  day  from  school,  to  see 
its  corner  stone  laid.  I  wish  that  every  boy  in  the  Latin  School 
and  High  School,  and  every  boy  in  Boston  who  is  old  enough  to 
be  here,  who  is  ever  going  to  be  in  these  schools,  could  be  here 
to-day. 

The  event  was  of  sufficient  importance  to  be  mentioned  in 
the  father's  journal:  "July  29,  1846.  William  and  Phillips 
were  examined  and  admitted  to  the  Latin  School  yester- 
day. They  have  now  been  three  years  to  Adams  Grammar 
School." 

At  the  Latin  School  he  remained  for  five  years  until  his 
preparation  for  college  was  completed.  Mr.  E.  S.  Dixwell 
was  the  head  master  when  he  entered,  and  was  succeeded  by 
the  late  Mr.  Gardner  in  the  last  year  of  Phillips 's  attend- 
ance. It  may  have  been  the  case  that  he  was  not  over  dili- 
gent as  a  pupil  at  first,  or  that  the  parents  at  home  lamented 
some  lack  of  earnest  devotion  to  his  studies.  For  there  is 
a  document  preserved,  a  scrap  of  paper,  recording  a  great 
resolution :  — 

I,  Phillips  Brooks,  do  hereby  promise,  and  pledge  myself  to 
study,  henceforward,  to  the  best  of  my  ability. 

P.  BROOKS. 

March  8,  1848. 

He  was  twelve  when  he  took  this  vow.  A  childhood  of 
unusual  joy,  gladness,  and  beauty  was  now  yielding  to  the 
"age  of  discretion."  At  this  time  he  was  growing  rapidly. 
When  he  was  fourteen  he  had  reached  the  height  of  five  feet 
eleven  inches,  weighing  one  hundred  and  thirty -three  pounds. 
These  facts,  and  other  minute  incidents  in  his  boy  life,  are 
carefully  recorded  by  the  father,  to  whom  the  physical  and 
material  aspects  of  life  were  always  of  importance,  as  if  pos- 
sessing some  sacred  quality.  A  classmate  of  Phillips  Brooks 
in  the  Latin  School,  who  was  also  his  lifelong  and  intimate 


54  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1848 

friend,  Robert  Treat  Paine,  Esq.,  of  Boston,  recalls  him  in 
his  gait  and  manner  at  this  time,  carrying  his  height 
awkwardly,  leaning  to  one  side  as  he  walked,  or  holding  to 
his  older  brother's  arm. 

The  boys  in  the  Latin  School  published  a  small  weekly 
paper,  one  of  whose  issues  has  been  preserved,  Vol.  I.  No. 
16,  Dedham,  June  7, 1848.  The  paper  was  named  "The  Riv- 
ulet," Rand  and  Motley,  Editors  and  Proprietors  (published 
weekly).  The  advertisement  of  this  organ  of  boyish  opin- 
ion has  a  mature  business  tone :  "  Published  every  Wednes- 
day for  the  Proprietors,  by  H.  Mann,  opposite  the  Pho3nix 
House,  High  Street.  We  shall  continue  to  deliver  the  paper 
to  subscribers,  until  direct  orders  are  received  from  them  to 
the  contrary."  And  again,  "All  communications  should  be 
addressed  to  us  through  the  Post  Office  at  Dedham,  post- 
paid." The  tone  of  the  editorials  on  the  third  page  is  decid- 
edly democratic.  Here  is  a  striking  sentence :  — 

Ye  who  dislike  the  name  of  a  mechanic,  whose  brothers  do 
nothing  but  loaf  and  dress,  beware  how  you  treat  young  men  who 
work  for  a  living.  ...  In  this  century,  no  man  or  woman  should 
be  respected,  in  our  way  of  thinking,  who  will  not  work,  bodily 
or  mentally,  or  who  curls  his  or  her  lip  with  scorn  when  intro- 
duced to  a  hard-working  man. 

Whether  the  boys  who  wrote  the  editorials  had  any  actual 
experience  which  wrought  them  up  to  a  certain  degree  of  in- 
spiration, or  whether  it  was  something  imagined  or  reported 
to  them,  may  be  difficult  to  decide,  but  there  is  no  doubt  of 
the  prominence  of  the  subject  in  their  minds.  Here  is  a 
most  impressive  editorial  entitled 

WOULDN'T  MARRY  A  MECHANIC. 

A  young  man  commenced  visiting  a  young  woman  and  appeared 
to  be  well  pleased. 

One  evening  he  called  when  it  was  quite  late,  which  led  the 
girl  to  enquire  where  he  had  been. 

"I  had  to  work  to-night,"  replied  he. 

"  Do  you  work  for  a  living  ?  "  enquired  the  astonished  girl. 

"Certainly,"  replied  the  young  man;  "I  am  a  mechanic,"  and 
the  turned  up  her  pretty  nose. 


12]         THE  LATIN  SCHOOL  55 

That  was  the  last  time  the  mechanic  visited  the  young  woman. 
He  is  now  a  wealthy  man,  and  has  one  of  the  best  of  women  for 
his  wife.  The  young  lady  who  disliked  the  name  of  a  mechanic 
is  now  the  wife  of  a  miserable  fool  —  a  regular  vagrant  about 
grog-shops  —  and  she,  poor,  miserable  girl,  is  obliged  to  take  in 
washing,  in  order  to  support  herself  and  children. 

A  letter  written  at  this  time,  at  the  age  of  twelve,  to  his 
mother,  tells  us  little  indeed,  but  it  is  his  own,  and  not  with- 
out some  elements  of  self -revelation.  It  is  a  family  letter  as 
well,  for  George  receives  a  communication  in  it,  and  William 
adds  a  postscript. 

ANDOVER,  June  13, 1848. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER,  —  We  were  very  glad  to  receive  your  letter 
of  yesterday,  and  I  now  take  my  pen  to  comply  with  your  wishes 
that  I  should  write  to  you  to-day.  We  have  had  a  very  pleasant 
time  so  far  and  hope  you  will  have  an  equally  good  one  through 
the  whole  of  your  visit.  Saturday  afternoon  we  visited  Judge 
Stevens  and  enjoyed  it  very  much  indeed.  All  well  there.  I  have 
had  very  little  of  that  pain  since  I  came  here  and  hope  that  it 
will  soon  be  entirely  gone.  Yesterday  afternoon  we  went  to  Den 
Rock  and  next  Thursday  if  nothing  occurs  to  prevent  we  shall 
go  to  Lawrence.  Grandmother  says  that  our  conduct  has  been 
GOOD.  Please  tell  Georgy,  that  I  lost  my  big  large  hog  knife 
down  in  the  pasture  (sad  to  write).  When  we  arrived,  Judge 
Stevens  procurred  us  a  conveyance  in  Spafford's  (excuse  spelling) 
Express  in  which  we  had  a  rather  stormy  ride.  All  here  are  well 
and  desire  love  to  you  all.  Excuse  bad  letters  and  poor  inditters 
[sic].  "Don't  let  nobody  see  this  letter." 

Your  dutiful  son 

PHILLIPS  BROOKS. 

BROTHER  GEO.,  — How  did  you  like  chatechising  [sic]  Sunday. 

P.  B. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  send  you  the  enclosed  extract  from  the 
Boston  Daily  Times  to  show  that  Mr.  Gen  Z.  Taylor  Esq  is  not 
a  Whig. 

Yours  etc. 

W.  G.  BROOKS,  Jmr. 

Another  incident  of  importance  at  this  moment  in  the 
family  life  was  a  letter  written  by  Dr.  Vinton  at  the  mother's 


56  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1848 

request  to  the  three  older  boys.  This  letter  was  highly 
valued,  known  in  the  family  tradition  as  Dr.  Vinton's  letter, 
and  read  to  the  younger  boys  also  when  they  were  ready  to 
receive  it.  It  bears  witness  to  the  faithfulness  of  the  pastor, 
but  even  stronger  witness  to  the  mother's -determination  to 
leave  no  stone  unturned  in  order  to  the  accomplishment  of 
her  supreme  and  single  purpose.  Perhaps  things  were  not 
going  in  a  way  satisfactory  to  the  deep  yearning  of  her  soul. 

POMTOBT,  August  28,  1848. 
To  WILLIAM,  PHILLIPS,  AND  GEORGE  BROOKS  :  — 

MY  DEAR  YOUNG  FRIENDS,  —  My  letter  may  take  you  by  surprise 
since  I  gave  you  no  intimation  of  my  intention  to  write  to  you. 
The  purpose  to  do  so,  however,  has  been  upon  my  mind  for  some 
weeks,  and  its  execution  has  been  delayed  partly  by  summary  inter- 
ruptions of  business,  and  partly  by  the  inconvenience  of  a  sprained 
ankle  which  made  almost  every  sort  of  occupation  troublesome. 
As  the  time  draws  near  which  will  carry  me  to  Boston  again 
I  feel  the  pressure  of  my  intention  more  urgently,  for  I  am  not 
willing  that  the  opportunity  should  pass  of  addressing  you  a  few 
words  of  pastoral  counsel  just  at  the  crisis  when  two  of  you  are 
about  to  enter  a  period  of  life  which  takes  you  out  from  my  more 
intimate  care.  I  have  been  a  watchful  and  gratified  witness  to 
your  fidelity  in  the  Sunday  School  and  in  the  catechetical  exercises, 
and  my  interest  for  one  of  you  had  been  specially  deepened  by  the 
well-remembered  sickness,  by  which  our  Heavenly  Father  brought 
him  almost  down  to  death.  I  believe  it  has  been  a  blessed  sick- 
ness, my  dear  William,  to  others  besides  yourself,  and  I  trust 
that  the  solemn  and  holy  purposes  which  it  awakened  in  your 
mind  will  never  die. 

You  and  Phillips  are  about  entering  upon  a  stage  of  life  which 
is  full  of  danger,  the  forming  stage  of  your  character,  —  that  of 
young  manhood.  Its  feelings  are  new,  its  temptations  are  strong 
and  different  from  any  you  have  ever  encountered.  You  will  be 
exposed  to  strange  and  unaccustomed  influences  on  the  one  hand, 
—  and  on  the  other,  you  will  be  deprived  of  much  of  the  salutary 
restraint  of  your  domestic  life,  and  of  the  direct  influence  of  the 
Sunday  School.  The  danger  always  is  to  young  men  that  they 
will  easily  forget  and  perhaps  despise  the  feelings  of  their  earlier 
days.  One  of  the  besetting  sins  of  this  period  of  life  is  pride 
which  leads  them  to  be  heedless  of  advice  and  self-restraint,  and 
therefore  they  will  be  sure  to  fall  unless  God  watches  and  holds 
them  with  a  father's  care.  I  have  indeed  almost  unbounded  con- 


MT.  13]         THE   LATIN   SCHOOL  57 

fidence  in  the  efficacy  of  a  parent's  prayers.  I  believe  it  clings 
to  the  life  of  a  young  man  and  follows  him  where  he  least  expects 
it.  The  answer  to  such  prayer  seems  almost  omnipotent  as  it  is 
wholesome. 

I  know  how  earnestly  such  prayer  has  been  continually  offered 
for  you,  and  therefore  I  am  very  hopeful.  Still,  as  you  are  free 
agents  it  is  in  your  power  to  frustrate  its  blessing,  and  it  is  the 
peculiar  temptation  of  young  men  that  they  do  not  feel  its  need. 
If  there  be  any  one  disposition  of  mind  which  I  would  wish  you 
to  cherish  and  cultivate  most  of  all,  it  is  that  of  dependence  upon 
God.  And  that  can  only  be  kept  alive  by  the  habit  of  prayer  and 
reading  the  Bible  day  and  night.  Do  not  let  anything  of  busi- 
ness, study,  or  pleasure  interfere  with  this.  Be  at  home  at  the 
Mercy  Seat.  It  will  give  energy  to  your  other  pursuits.  Re- 
member the  saying  of  Martin  Luther  "Bene  precdsse  est  bene  stu- 
duisse."  It  will  be  a  safeguard  against  temptation,  and  a  shield 
in  your  greatest  danger. 

I  do  not  know  whether  I  shall  be  able  to  make  arrangements 
for  a  young  men's  Bible  class  this  autumn,  and  if  not,  as  you  are 
to  leave  the  Sunday  School,  you  will  be  in  special  danger  of  for- 
getting its  pursuits  and  its  influences.  But  God  is  not  bound  to 
such  means  alone,  and  He  can  edify  you  and  bring  your  hearts  to 
Himself  in  a  way  that  is  independent  of  us. 

My  prayer  and  hope  for  you  are  that  I  may  see  you  at  an  early 
period  consecrating  yourselves  to  God  in  the  open  membership  of 
his  Church,  showing  that  you  are  not  ashamed  of  Him,  and  that 
you  have  experienced  his  renewing  Grace. 

You,  my  dear  George,  will  yet  by  God's  permission  be  for  some 
time  in  the  school,  where  I  shall  often  meet  you,  and  where  I  hope 
you  will  derive  much  good.  May  it  be  my  joy  at  last,  my  dear 
young  friends,  to  meet  you  at  the  right  hand  of  our  Saviour  is  the 
earnest  prayer  of  your  affectionate  friend  and  pastor, 

ALEX'B  H.  VLNTON. 

The  Latin  School  gave  to  Phillips  Brooks  the  full  benefit 
of  its  famous  training  in  the  classics,  as  well  as  the  taste  for 
their  study.  But  it  is  in  his  literary  work  that  the  interest 
chiefly  centres,  where  we  now  begin  to  read  the  earliest 
traces  of  his  distinctive  power.  His  essays  are  still  preserved, 
each  one  carefully  written  in  his  best  style  of  penmanship. 
His  handwriting  at  this  time  closely  resembles  that  of  his 
father,  who  cultivated  penmanship  as  an  art,  studying  the 
formation  of  beautiful  letters  and  in  his  leisure  and  idle 


58  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1849 

moments  designing  letters  of  graceful  kinds.  The  mother 
was  rather  indifferent  in  this  respect,  writing  rapidly  from  a 
full  heart,  and  only  anxious  to  make  her  meaning  clear  or 
to  express  her  thought.  That  importance  was  attached  to 
these  youthful  literary  efforts  is  seen  in  the  fact  of  their 
careful  preservation  in  their  original  form,  and  also  in  a 
complete  copy  of  them  in  a  blank  book  kept  for  the  purpose. 
The  title-page  of  this  book  is  a  beautiful  specimen  of  print- 
ing, in  which  he  must  have  taken  lessons  from  his  father. 
It  reads,  "Compositions,  written  by  Phillips  Brooks  at  the 
Public  Latin  School,  Boston,  I860." 

The  subject  of  the  first  composition  is  "California,"  writ- 
ten in  1849,  the  foremost  subject  in  his  mind,  as  it  was  then 
stirring  the  popular  imagination  throughout  the  country. 
We  can  imagine  that  he  received  some  aid  in  conversation 
with  his  father,  whose  journal  at  this  time  contains  references 
to  the  absorbing  topic.  The  style  is  stiff  and  the  manner 
conventional.  He  begins  with  remarks  on  the  art  of  mining, 
and  its  difficulties,  which  have  but  little  connection  with 
what  follows.  "The  whole  country  of  California,"  he  adds, 
"for  the  distance  of  many  hundred  miles  in  all  directions, 
seems  to  be  filled  with  gold."  The  inexhaustible  richness  is 
what  moves  his  mind.  His  next  subject  was  " Slavery,"  which 
receives  the  same  formal  treatment,  a  review  of  its  history 
containing  some  facts  gained  from  books,  and  a  reference  to 
the  action  of  Great  Britain  in  the  emancipation  of  slaves  in  her 
dominions.  It  concludes:  "And  shall  North  America,  that 
land  of  freedom,  withhold  her  consent  from  their  humane 
declarations  ?  Shall  she  whose  sons  fought  and  bled  for  their 
own  liberty  refuse  to  do  her  utmost  towards  suppressing  this 
infamous  traffic  which  is  destroying  the  liberties  of  so  many 
of  our  fellow  men?  "  This  was  written  in  1849,  at  the  age  of 
thirteen.  It  shows  what  he  was  thinking  about,  and  the  feel- 
ing was  real.  It  has  a  prophetic  quality.  This  composition 
was  marked  15  by  Mr.  Francis  Gardner.  "  The  Government 
of  the  Thoughts,"  which  follows,  shows  more  freedom  in  the 
treatment,  containing  one  sentence  which  indicates  that  at 
this  early  moment  he  had  struck  the  method  of  his  later 


.  14]          THE   LATIN   SCHOOL  59 

work.  The  sentence  is  a  familiar  one  :  "Take,  for  instance, 
the  case  of  two  men  who  begin  life  under  the  same  circum- 
stances, the  first  of  whom  far  exceeds  the  other  in  talents, 
but  is  inferior  to  the  second  in  the  government  of  the 
thoughts,  and  in  the  end  will  it  not  be  seen  that  the  success 
of  the  second  far  exceeds  that  of  the  former?"  This  paper 
was  marked  12.  In  the  treatment  of  "The  Evils  of  War," 
we  have  a  short  and  perfunctory  performance  of  the  school- 
boy. But  this  is  succeeded  by  a  composition  on  "The  Plea- 
sures of  Memory,"  which  almost  attains  the  maximum  grade, 
being  marked  18  by  Mr.  Dixwell,  the  head  master. 

When  he  wrote  "  The  Pleasures  of  Memory "  he  was 
fourteen.  Many  other  boys,  and  girls  also,  have  written  well 
on  this  subject.  There  must  be  some  law  underlying  human 
growth  which  explains  this  tendency  to  be  attracted  by  such 
a  theme.  It  marks  the  rise  of  what  we  call  sentiment.  It 
coincides  with  the  moment  when  youth  stands  trembling  on 
the  verge  of  manhood.  There  is  a  sense  of  regret  mingled 
with  the  hope  which  looks  for  greater  things  in  the  future. 
The  hour  has  come  when  one  begins  to  remember.  All  this  is 
commonplace,  but  it  is  very  human.  What  strikes  one  in  this 
paper  is  that  the  thought  of  home  is  uppermost  in  his  mind. 
He  will  never  lose  the  home  feeling,  for  memory  will  preserve 
it.  In  coming  years  he  will  be  carried  back  to  it  again,  to  the 
far-off  scenes  of  his  earlier  days;  will  feel  again  "the  plea- 
sures which  filled  up  the  morning  of  his  life  before  the  world 
and  its  cares  had  cast  around  him  their  fettering  cares ; "  he 
will  "listen  to  each  familiar  voice,  and  speak  each  well-known 
name ;  the  joys  and  sorrows,  the  childish  cares  and  pleasures, 
of  his  youthful  days  will  seem  again  to  be  his ;  the  past  is 
to  him  even  as  the  present.  With  the  wanderer  in  a  foreign 
land  will  abide  the  memory  of  the  home  which  he  has  left 
behind  him,  of  affectionate  parents  and  of  dearest  friends. 
Every  association  connected  with  that  home  will  rise  up  be- 
fore him  to  cheer  him  on  his  solitary  way."  But  the  moralist 
and  the  preacher  betray  their  incipient  presence  as  he  evolves 
his  theme.  There  is  the  possibility  of  evil  memories  to  be 
avoided.  If  the  memories  are  of  good  and  virtuous  deeds,  if 


60  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1850 

we  may  look  back  upon  a  life  unspotted  and  unstained,  then 
we  shall  acknowledge  that  the  power  of  memory  is  indeed  one 
of  the  greatest,  the  noblest,  and  the  highest  blessings  which 
could  have  been  bestowed  upon  mankind. 

"  The  Pleasures  of  Memory  "  was  followed,  in  the  same 
year,  1850,  by  another  essay  with  a  deep  self -revealing  qual- 
ity entitled  " Solitude."  This  essay  was  marked  19.  He 
was  learning  to  rejoice  in  his  solitary  hours,  when  he  was 
holding  communion  with  himself :  — 

There  are  lessons  which  he  may  have  from  others,  bat  there  are 
lessons  of  which  he  himself  must  be  the  teacher  and  solitude  the 
school.  .  .  .  No  man  can  rightly  perform  his  duties  here,  without 
many  an  hour  of  silent,  solemn  meditation  and  self-examination. 
In  the  hours  of  solitude  it  is  conscience  that  is  the  most  active. 
That  still  small  voice  which  among  the  more  busy  scenes  of  life  is 
almost  drowned  now  holds  its  sovereign  sway.  .  .  .  And  is  there 
no  pleasure  to  be  derived  from  solitude  ?  .  .  .Is  man  his  own  worst 
enemy,  that  he  can  derive  no  pleasure  from  communion  with  him- 
self? No!  the  upright  cannot  fail  to  acknowledge  that  their 
solitary  hours  are  often  the  happiest  in  their  lives.  ...  To  him 
whose  soul  has  been  wearied  by  continual  communion  with  the 
world,  in  whose  mind  its  pleasures  and  its  amusements  awaken 
little  else  than  satiety  and  disgust,  how  delightful  it  is  to  flee 
from  its  busy  scenes  and  to  seek  repose  in  solitude;  to  feel  that 
no  human  eye  can  see,  and  no  human  voice  can  intrude  to  mar  the 
quiet  and  the  peace  with  which  the  soul  is  surrounded. 

The  awakening  of  the  intellectual  life  becomes  more  ap- 
parent in  the  paper  which  follows,  written  in  this  same  year, 
before  reaching  his  fifteenth  birthday.  Its  title  is  "Books," 
with  the  sub-title  "Their  Value,  Good  and  Bad  Influence, 
Imperfections."  This  essay  is  not  uninfluenced  by  the  home 
life,  which  was  intellectual  as  well  as  religious.  In  his  home, 
the  best  books  were  read  aloud  around  the  table  in  the  long 
winter  evenings.  The  mother  was  fond  of  poetry,  the  father 
was  alive  to  any  book  which  was  influencing  the  thoughts  of 
men.  But  there  was  careful  scrutiny  on  the  part  of  the 
parents  lest  books  should  be  introduced  which  were  misleading 
and  dangerous  in  their  tendency.  There  was  freedom  under 
restraint.  The  boys  were  made  aware  of  evil  possibilities  in 


.  14]          THE  LATIN  SCHOOL  61 

current  literature.  Especially  was  the  mother  on  her  guard 
against  any  religious  teaching  which  should  run  counter  to 
the  principles  she  cherished  as  vital.  It  was  a  time  of  intense 
religious  feeling  in  Boston  about  the  year  1850,  —  a  breaking 
away  from  received  standards  under  the  influence  of  the 
transcendental  movement.  The  effect  of  the  home  attitude 
or  of  other  teachers  may  be  traced  in  this  first  attempt  of 
Phillips  Brooks  as  a  boy  to  speak  on  the  subject  of  books. 

This  essay  received,  as  it  deserved,  a  high  mark,  falling 
only  one  short  of  the  maximum.  It  is  characteristic  of  the 
future  man  in  many  ways.  His  favorite  illustration  of  the 
sunlight  of  truth  is  here.  There  is  a  desire  to  get  all  the 
aspects  of  the  subject.  There  is  earnest  moral  purpose,  a 
consciousness  as  if  he  were  responsible  for  the  well-being  of 
the  whole  world,  and  were  aiming  at  nothing  else ;  the  deter- 
mination to  secure  the  completest  self -culture.  At  this  mo- 
ment we  may  imagine  him  as  already  a  diligent  reader ;  but 
though  he  was  just  beginning  his  career,  and  knew  but  little 
of  books,  his  imagination  enables  him  to  consider  the  whole 
range  of  literature.  We  have  seen  the  parents  anxious  lest 
he  should  absorb  the  evil  in  his  reading  and  warning  him  of 
danger.  That  warning  is  received  in  docility.  He  will  read 
the  best  without  prejudices,  with  close  attention,  but  always 
on  his  guard,  and  his  conscience  may  be  trusted  to  as  a  safe 
guide,  making  him  sensitive  to  every  departure  from  truth 
and  purity. 

When  he  wrote  his  next  essays  he  had  passed  his  fifteenth 
birthday.  He  must  have  been  encouraged  by  the  high  grade 
his  previous  effort  had  received.  He  gives  the  rein  to  an 
intenser  enthusiasm,  his  vocabulary  grows  richer  and  fuller, 
his  confidence  in  his  powers  has  increased.  There  is  still 
formality  of  expression  and  a  certain  old-fashioned  conven- 
tionality, the  limited  range  of  a  schoolboy's  information. 
But  his  own  thought  and  observation  of  life,  whether  gained 
by  books  or  by  experience,  are  uttered  with  a  deeper  empha- 
sis, with  an  intensity  of  conviction,  as  though  he  would  have 
been  driven  to  speak  by  the  impelling  power  of  his  own  emo- 
tion. One  can  discern  that  he  is  writing  better  than  he 


62  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1851 

knows.  He  is  uttering  sentiments  which  will  be  the  staple 
of  his  teaching  as  a  mature  man.  It  is  unreal,  for  there  is 
no  experience  behind  it,  and  yet  it  is  prophetic,  giving  one 
a  reverence  for  the  early  stages  of  his  growth.  The  compre- 
hensiveness of  his  method  is  here,  the  desire  to  see  both  sides 
of  a  question;  as  in  his  essay  on  "Selfishness,"  where  he 
endeavors  to  trace  the  good  that  has  proceeded  from  it  under 
an  overruling  Providence,  while  yet  condemning  its  baneful 
influence  in  history. 

An  essay  entitled  "Independence  must  have  its  Limits" 
marks  more  distinctly  the  emergence  of  the  boy  into  a  deeper 
thoughtf ulness  and  responsibility.  The  youthful  laudation  of 
American  independence  gives  way  to  the  larger  treatment  of 
an  ethical  distinction,  which  should  govern  nations  as  well  as 
individuals.  He  criticises  the  statement,  "Independence  is 
our  country's  boast  :  "  "If  that  independent  spirit  be  carried 
so  far  as  to  break  the  bond  of  union  which  binds  nation  to 
nation  and  continent  to  continent,  then  where  is  our  boasted 
strength,  where  is  our  widespread  commerce,  where  our  na- 
tional existence  ?  "  He  lays  down  the  principle  that  absolute 
independence  is  contrary  to  man's  constitution,  to  the  design 
of  God  as  written  in  the  universal  law  of  nature.  He  illus- 
trates the  dependence  everywhere  visible  in  the  natural  world, 
the  earth,  the  ocean,  the  mountain  stream  for  the  sources  of 
moisture,  the  whole  vegetable  creation  also :  — 

Look  abroad  upon  Nature's  vast  repository  of  the  grand  and 
lovely  and  see  how  universal  is  the  law  of  natural  dependence. 
The  earth  would  be  parched  and  dry  but  for  the  kindly  showers ; 
the  mighty  ocean  would  be  empty  but  for  the  mountain  streams 
which  fill  it ;  the  lofty  oak  but  for  the  moisture  which  the  earth 
supplies  would  fade  and  wither.  See  where  yonder  vine  clings 
for  support  to  the  majestic  elm.  Behold  how  each  blade  of  grass, 
as  it  raises  its  lowly  head,  renders  up  its  tribute  of  gratitude  to 
that  sun  upon  whose  beams  it  depends  for  life  and  health.  Hear 
how  with  each  morning's  dawn,  each  evening's  setting  sun,  Nature 
with  its  thousand  voices  sends  up  her  chorus  of  grateful  depend- 
ence to  the  Maker  and  Preserver  of  the  earth. 

And  shall  man  have  no  part  in  this  universal  law  of  depend- 
ence ?  Shall  he  be  entirely  independent  of  his  fellow  men  ?  No ! 
he  is  bound  to  them  by  ties  which  no  power  on  earth  can  break 


MT.  15]          THE   LATIN   SCHOOL  63 

asunder.  So  numerous  are  the  bonds  which  bind  together  the 
vast  family  of  mankind  that  it  is  impossible  for  one  man  breaking 
through  them  all  to  declare  himself  independent  of  his  fellow 
men.  Man  must  regard  the  convenience  and  wishes  of  others  as 
well  as  of  himself.  Otherwise  where  would  be  that  harmony 
which  is  the  very  soul  of  a  well-regulated  society.  No  man  in 
passing  through  an  excited  crowd  would  expect  to  be  free  from 
the  influence  of  its  motions;  and  so  in  passing  through  this 
crowded  and  busy  world,  who  will  not  receive  his  share  of  its 
buffets  and  blows  ?  How  much  better  will  he  fare  who  yields  to 
its  motions  than  he  who  in  stately  and  independent  dignity  walks 
regardless  of  mortals  around  him. 

But  in  seeking  to  give  to  independence  its  proper  limits,  we 
must  not  fall  into  the  error  of  contracting  those  limits  beyond 
their  proper  sphere.  We  must  have  a  will  and  a  mind  of  our 
own.  We  are  not  to  bind  our  conscience  to  any  man's  creed,  to 
be  led  whithersoever  he  may  choose.  We  have  no  right  to  "fol- 
low the  multitude  to  do  evil."  He  deserves  not  the  name  of 
man  who  dares  not  to  think,  to  speak,  and  to  act  for  himself. 
"Let  us,  then,  ever  strive  to  be  independent,  but  within  due 
limits,  to  act  by  ourselves  and  not  always  for  ourselves  alone." 

From  the  discussion  of  independence  in  the  individual  he 
turns  to  the  independence  of  nations.  China  is  made  to 
serve  as  an  illustration  of  what  befalls  a  nation  when  she 
seeks  to  maintain  herself  apart  from  relations  with  other 
countries.  Instead  of  becoming  really  independent  she  falls 
into  a  dependence  which  amounts  to  servitude. 

If,  when  our  fathers  severed  the  chain  of  tyranny  which  bound 
them  to  their  fatherland,  they  had  also  rent  in  twain  those  other 
ties  of  religion,  commerce,  and  literature,  which  bind  their  interest 
to  hers,  what  would  be  our  situation  now !  If  the  young  bird  of 
America  in  her  earliest  flights  had  scorned  to  receive  aid  from 
others,  would  she  have  reached  the  glorious  height  to  which  she 
has  since  attained !  In  the  words  of  our  national  song,  — 

Let  independence  be  onr  boast, 
Ever  mindful  what  it  cost ; 

but  with  our  thanksgiving  for  that  independence,  let  there  ascend 
to  Heaven  a  prayer  that  pride  may  not  become  a  curse  rather  than 
a  blessing. 

In  an  essay  entitled  "Doubt,"  from  Shakespeare's  lines  as 
a  text 


64  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1851 

Oar  donbts  an  traitor* ; 
And  make  nx  lose  the  good  we  oft  might  win 
By  fearing  to  attempt, 

he  exhibits  his  subtle  capacity  for  qualification.  Here  is  a 
very  mature  sentence:  "Salutary  doubt  is  of  the  nature  of 
prudent  caution  and  has  nothing  in  common  with  a  shrinking 
timidity  which  seems  to  be  always  treading  upon  the  verge  of 
its  own  grave."  In  a  word,  we  may  say  of  all  these  essays 
that  they  mingle  boyish  crudity  with  a  prematurely  wise 
expression  of  great  truths.  They  are  remarkable  as  showing 
the  continuity  of  his  years.  They  contain  the  germs  of  his 
later  method  of  work  as  well  as  his  latest  convictions.  What 
he  thought  and  believed  as  a  boy,  he  continued  to  believe 
with  the  fuller  power  of  his  manhood. 

The  encouragement  he  had  received  from  the  high  marks 
given  to  his  essays  led  him  to  compete  for  a  prize  when 
unfortunately  the  subject  assigned  was  "  Mathematical  Pur- 
suits." He  records  his  failure  with  the  words  "Ah  me  mise- 
rum  I  "  This  essay  is  the  most  elaborate  and  ambitious  of  all 
his  attempts,  containing  some  five  thousand  words.  He  here 
gives  full  scope  to  his  power  for  fine  writing  and  well-turned 
sentences.  Illustrations  and  rich  imagery  abound.  His  whole 
stock  of  boyish  knowledge  is  summoned  to  his  aid  in  describ- 
ing and  enforcing  the  value  of  mathematical  pursuits.  But 
in  this  instance  he  deserved  to  fail.  He  had  undertaken  a 
task  for  which  his  strong  will  and  his  desire  to  compass  all 
things  was  not  equal.  Perhaps  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a 
natural  inability  for  mathematical  pursuits.  We  know  that 
while  he  was  in  college  he  paid  no  more  attention  to  this 
branch  of  his  education  than  was  absolutely  necessary.  It 
may  have  been  that  his  failure  to  take  the  prize  with  an  essay 
on  which  he  had  spent  so  much  force  was  a  source  of  discour- 
agement. At  any  rate,  if  he  showed  no  interest  in  mathe- 
matical pursuits  in  his  college  course,  he  had  done  his  best  to 
rouse  himself  to  a  sense  of  their  value.  It  was  well  for  him 
that  he  failed  to  take  the  prize,  for  it  would  have  been  a 
greater  failure  if  he  had  achieved  it  by  rhetoric,  without  sur- 
mounting the  difficulty  in  his  own  experience. 


.  15]          THE  LATIN   SCHOOL  65 

He  must  have  been  working  with  great  diligence  at  this 
moment  when  he  handed  in  his  essay  on  "Mathematical  Pur- 
suits," for  on  the  same  day  he  sent  in  a  poem  entitled  "The 
Shipwreck."  On  the  back  of  the  envelope  he  has  inscribed, 
"  Given  in  for  Prize  at  the  Public  Lat.  School.  But  unfor- 
tunately failed.  A  h  me  miserumf  "  This  poem  is  of  course 
a  purely  imaginative  effort.  What  he  knew  he  must  have 
gained  mainly  from  reading  the  descriptions  in  the  ^Eneid. 
These  he  has  reproduced  with  abundance  of  classical  allu- 
sions, he  showing  dependence  on  Pope,  as  a  model  for  his 
metre  and  rhyme.  It  is  very  high-flown  and  of  course  unreal, 
but  it  is  significant  that  in  these  first  efforts,  as  a  boy,  as 
well  as  in  later  manhood,  he  shows  one  common  character- 
istic, —  the  desire  to  enter  through  the  imagination  into  every 
phase  of  the  higher  human  experiences,  and  to  make  them 
his  own.  He  was  seeking  even  in  boyhood  to  identify  him- 
self with  humanity,  and  to  gather  up  into  himself  its  hopes 
and  its  achievements. 

At  the  distribution  of  the  Lawrence  prizes  on  the  last  day 
of  the  spring  term  in  1851,  Phillips  Brooks  received  a  prize 
for  good  behavior  only.  He  had  competed  for  a  prize  of 
another  kind,  in  his  essay  on  "Mathematics  "  and  in  his  poem 
"The  Shipwreck,"  but  had  failed.  His  standing  in  his  class 
was  high,  but  not  the  highest;  his  rank  was  third.  He  was 
one  of  six,  however,  who  took  the  Franklin  medal  when  he 
graduated,  which  stood  for  excellence  in  the  final  examina- 
tions in  Latin,  Greek,  and  mathematics.  In  the  order  of 
exercises  at  the  annual  visitation  on  July  12,  1851,  his  name 
is  set  down  for  an  English  essay  on  "Socrates."  His  father 
was  present  to  hear  him,  and  recalled  in  later  years,  when 
his  son  had  become  known  to  fame,  the  enthusiasm  with 
which  the  essay  was  delivered.  It  was  a  brief  essay,  a  wail 
over  the  condemnation  of  the  philosopher  for  corrupting 
youth  when  it  had  been  his  aim  to  instil  into  their  young 
minds  the  doctrines  of  truth  and  right. 

That  he  was  moved  on  leaving  the  Latin  School,  and  alive 
to  the  significance  of  the  transition  as  an  epoch  in  his  life, 
is  shown  in  the  poem  he  wrote,  "On  Leaving  School,"  Au- 


66  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1851 

gust  1,  1851.  It  contains  seventy-three  lines,  mainly  boyish 
doggerel,  rapidly  written  without  revision,  but  with  a  vein 
of  seriousness  beneath.  The  conclusion  reads :  — 

How  he  [the  Head  Master]  would  fume  and  rage  and  scold  and  fret 

And  say  he  'd  never  seen  such  scholars  yet. 

How  oft  we  strove  his  gentle  heart  to  tease 

And  very  very  seldom  strove  to  please. 

How  joyed  and  sorrowed,  laughed  and  played  and  wept, 

How  toiled  and  dug,  and  grubbed,  and  worked  and  slept, 

How  played  the  wise  man  and  how  played  the  fool, 

There  in  the  Boston  Public  Latin  School. 

But  still  however  high  thy  course  may  rise, 
Though  murmured  plaudits  raise  thee  to  the  skies; 
Though  senates  and  admiring  people  praise, 
Yet  still  forget  not  of  thy  younger  days. 
Think  how  'mid  muses'  seats  we  used  to  roam 
And  made  the  Latin  School  our  common  home; 
How  well  we  studied,  strove  our  minds  to  store 
With  all  the  wealth  of  ancient  classic  lore. 
And  when  our  sad  devoted  fate  was  sealed, 
Loud  o'er  our  heads  the  Master's  thunder  pealed; 
How  Manual's  rage  and  Delta's  righteous  fire 
Brought  down  the  Master's  most  tremendous  ire. 

What  the  Boston  Latin  School  had  done  for  Phillips 
Brooks  he  himself  has  told  us,  on  the  occasion  of  the  dedica- 
tion of  its  present  building,  after  the  lapse  of  thirty  years 
since  he  left  it :  — 

I  want  to  speak  only  a  few  minutes,  if  I  can  restrain  myself  so. 
It  is  all  very  well  to  talk  about  the  magnificence  of  this  new 
building.  It  is  magnificent,  and  we  are  thankful  for  it;  but  to 
me  there  is  something  infinitely  sad  and  pathetic  this  morning  in 
thinking  of  our  old  Latin  and  English  High  Schoolhouse  standing 
empty  and  desolate  down  in  Bedford  Street.  I  cannot  get  it  out 
of  my  mind.  I  cannot,  as  I  look  around  upon  the  brilliancy  of 
this  new  building,  forget  what  that  old  building  has  done.  I  can- 
not help  thinking  of  it  almost  as  a  person,  and  wondering  if  it 
hears  what  we  are  saying  here.  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  from 
the  top  of  the  old  brown  cupola  it  looks  across  the  length  of  the 
city  and  sees  the  pinnacles  of  this  new  temple  which  is  to  take  its 
place.  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  even  through  its  closed  and 
dusty  windows,  it  is  hearing  something  of  the  triumphant  shouts 


MT.  15]          THE  LATIN  SCHOOL  67 

with  which  its  successor's  walls  are  ringing.  I  cannot  help  won- 
dering what  it  thinks  about  it  all. 

But  when  I  know,  letting  that  old  schoolhouse  stand  before  me 
a  moment  in  personal  shape,  —  when  I  know  what  a  dear  and  ear- 
nest old  creature  it  was,  when  I  know  how  carefully  it  looked  after 
those  who  came  into  its  culture  and  embrace,  when  I  know  how 
many  of  us  will  always  look  back  to  it,  through  the  whole  course 
of  our  lives,  as  the  place  where  were  gathered  some  of  the  deepest 
inspirations  that  ever  came  to  us,  I  cannot  but  think  that  the  old 
school  is  noble  enough  and  generous  enough  to  look  with  joy  and 
satisfaction  upon  this  new  building  which  has  risen  to  take  its 
place.  And  as  the  old  year  kindly  and  ungrudgingly  sinks  back 
into  the  generations  of  the  past,  and  allows  the  new  year  to  come 
in  with  its  new  activities,  and  as  the  father  steps  aside  and  sees 
the  son  who  bears  his  nature,  and  whom  he  has  taught  the  best  he 
knows,  come  forth  into  life  and  fill  his  place,  so  I  am  willing  to 
believe  that  the  old  school  rejoices  in  this,  its  great  successor, 
and  that  it  is  thinking  (if  it  has  thoughts)  of  its  own  useful 
career,  and  congratulating  itself  upon  the  earnest  and  faithful 
way  in  which  it  has  pursued,  not  only  the  special  methods  of 
knowledge  which  have  belonged  to  its  time,  but  the  purposes  of 
knowledge  which  belong  to  all  time,  and  must  pass  from  school- 
house  to  schoolhouse,  and  from  age  to  age,  unchanged.  .  .  . 

When  the  Duke  of  Wellington  came  back  to  Eton  after  his 
glorious  career,  as  he  was  walking  through  the  old  quadrangle  he 
looked  around  and  said,  "Here  is  where  I  learned  the  lessons 
that  made  it  possible  for  me  to  conquer  at  Waterloo."  It  was  not 
what  he  had  read  there  in  books,  not  what  he  had  learned  there 
by  writing  Greek  verses,  or  by  scanning  the  lines  of  Virgil  and 
Horace,  that  helped  him  win  his  great  battle;  but  there  he  had 
learned  to  be  faithful  to  present  duty,  to  be  strong,  to  be  diligent, 
to  be  patient,  and  that  was  why  he  was  able  to  say  that  it  was 
what  he  had  learned  at  Eton  that  made  it  possible  for  him  to 
conquer  at  Waterloo. 

And  the  same  thing  made  it  possible  for  the  Latin  and  High 
School  boys  to  help  win  the  victory  which  came  at  Gettysburg, 
and  under  the  very  walls  of  Richmond.  It  was  the  lessons  which 
they  had  learned  here.  It  was  not  simply  the  lessons  which  they 
had  learned  out  of  books ;  it  was  the  grand  imprint  of  character 
which  had  been  given  to  them  here.1 

1  Cf .  "  Address  at  the  250th  Anniversary  of  the  Boston  Latin  School,"  i> 
Essays  and  Addrestes,  pp.  393  ff. 


CHAPTER  HI 
1851-1865 

HARVARD   COLLEGE 

IN  the  fall  of  1851,  Phillips  Brooks  entered  Harvard  Col- 
lege, according  to  the  custom  of  his  ancestors.  As  he  went 
simply  from  Boston  to  Cambridge,  it  was  not  like  leaving 
home  for  college.  The  time  from  Saturday  to  Monday  in 
every  week  was  spent  with  his  family.  He  attended  still  St. 
Paul's  Church,  and  was  under  the  same  parental  and  pas* 
toral  influences  which  had  followed  him  through  the  Latin 
School.  While  in  some  respects  there  was  an  advantage  in 
such  a  situation,  yet  it  has  deprived  his  Memoir  of  a  possible 
home  correspondence  which  would  have  thrown  light  on  his 
college  days.  These  years  in  college  would  be  almost  a 
blank  so  far  as  our  knowledge  of  his  development  is  con- 
cerned were  it  not  for  the  contributions  of  his  classmates,  or 
for  some  of  the  papers  he  has  left  behind  indicating  the 
character  of  his  work.  What  can  be  told  by  a  classmate  is 
in  the  nature  of  the  case  general  in  its  character,  especially 
after  the  lapse  of  forty  years.  But  what  little  is  told  pos- 
sesses the  deepest  significance. 

Harvard  College  in  the  decade  of  the  fifties  was  still  a 
college  among  the  many  scattered  through  the  land,  and  had 
hardly  yet  begun  to  develop  into  a  university.  But  it  pos- 
sessed the  distinction  of  age;  its  traditions  ran  back  to  the 
settlement  of  the  colony  of  Massachusetts  Bay.  It  possessed 
a  distinction  also  in  a  corps  of  teachers  such  as  would  be  a 
signal  honor  to  any  university,  some  of  them  indeed  of 
world-wide  reputation  and  of  enduring  fame.  Literature 
was  represented  by  Longfellow,  the  natural  sciences  by 
Agassiz  and  by  Asa  Gray ;  Benjamin  Peirce  was  professor 
of  mathematics ;  Sophocles  and  Felton  stood  for  the  classics, 


.  15-19]         HARVARD   COLLEGE  69 

and  Bowen  for  metaphysics;  Child  and  Lane  and  Cooke 
were  young  men,  then  beginning  their  long  and  honored 
careers  as  teachers  in  English,  in  Latin,  and  chemistry. 
The  president  of  the  college  from  1852  was  Dr.  James 
Walker,  who  exerted  a  strong  influence  on  the  young  men, 
both  in  the  pulpit  and  the  classroom,  whose  high  character 
was  recognized,  admired,  and  imitated. 

The  total  number  of  students  in  the  college  in  1851  was 
304,  and  in  all  the  departments,  626.  The  library  in  Gore 
Hall  contained  60,000  volumes.  Attendance  at  prayers  was 
required  twice  every  day  and  once  at  church  on  Sundays. 
The  hour  of  daily  morning  prayers  was  seven  o'clock  from 
September  to  April,  and  six  o'clock  from  April  to  the  close  of 
the  college  year.  Three  recitations  were  made  each  day  with 
sufficient  intervals  between  for  the  preparation  of  lessons : 
from  eight  to  nine,  from  twelve  to  one,  and  from  five  to  six. 
The  dinner  hour  was  fixed  by  authority  at  one  o'clock.  It 
was  all  very  simple,  the  working  regime  easily  mastered. 
Discipline  was  indeed  called  for,  and  especially  in  relation  to 
that  sphere  where  there  should  have  been  least,  compulsory 
attendance  at  the  chapel  services.  These  services  might  have 
been  less  irksome  if  the  police  element  in  them  had  been  made 
less  prominent.  Their  most  apparent  object  was  to  rout  the 
students  at  an  unearthly  hour  in  the  morning,  and  to  ascer- 
tain that  they  were  still  within  the  fold  at  the  close  of  the 
day.  Phillips  Brooks  was  some  months  short  of  his  sixteenth 
birthday  when  he  entered  Harvard.  At  this  age  he  had 
nearly,  if  not  quite,  attained  his  full  stature,  according  to 
his  father's  record,  weighing  161  pounds  and  measuring  six 
feet  three  and  one  half  inches.  During  his  Freshman  year 
he  roomed  at  Mrs.  Stickney's,  on  Hilliard  Street;  in  his 
Sophomore  year  at  Miss  Dana's,  on  Holyoke  Street.  When 
he  became  a  Junior  he  went  into  the  college  yard,  having 
room  15  in  Massachusetts  Hall,  and  in  his  Senior  year  room- 
ing in  32  Stoughton.  But  few  buildings  then  stood  in  the 
yard;  besides  those  mentioned,  there  were  Hollis  and  Hoi- 
worthy,  Massachusetts  and  University,  in  which  latter  was 
the  college  chapel;  Gore  Hall  the  library,  Dane  Hall  the 


70  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1851-55 

home  of  the  Law  School,  and  the  little  building,  which  still 
remains  to  mark  the  vast  growth  of  Harvard,  Holden 
Chapel.  Old  Cambridge,  as  it  was  called,  was  still  a  pro* 
vinrial  village,  with  many  evidences  of  its  colonial  descent. 
It  was  connected  with  Boston  by  an  omnibus  or  stage,  which 
ran  hourly  during  the  day,  but  suspended  its  task  at  a  rea- 
sonable hour  in  the  evening.  To  walk  in  and  out  of  Boston 
may  have  been  a  pleasure  to  some;  it  was  a  hard  necessity 
for  others.  The  once  familiar  horse  car,  which  in  its  time 
rendered  connection  with  Boston  somewhat  easier,  made  its 
first  appearance  in  1855.  For  artificial  illumination,  ker- 
osene oil  had  recently  displaced  the  earlier  method,  and  was 
regarded  as  a  great  improvement. 

Phillips  Brooks  threw  himself  with  ardor  and  enthusiasm 
into  college  life.  To  this  remark  there  is  but  one  exception, 
he  is  not  remembered  as  taking  part  in  athletic  sports. 
These,  to  be  sure,  were  still  in  their  infancy;  even  baseball 
had  yet  to  be  developed  from  simple  rudiments.  Cricket 
was  a  favorite  game,  but  for  this  he  showed  no  interest  or 
aptitude.  Those  who  remember  him  in  college  speak  of  his 
physical  inertness.  He  did  not  care  much  for  walking  — 
it  was  hard  to  drag  him  out  for  a  walk ;  nor  did  he  seek 
recreation  in  games  of  chance.  It  may  be  that  his  rapid 
physical  growth  had  left  him  weak  for  the  time,  and  that 
physical  rest  was  what  he  needed.  He  had  a  very  nervous 
constitution,  delicate  and  susceptible  to  external  influences. 
Because  he  found  no  vent  in  games  and  sports,  he  threw  him- 
self with  all  the  greater  intensity  into  whatever  of  college  life 
came  into  his  way.  At  the  end  of  his  Freshman  year  he 
was  one  of  the  first  to  be  elected  into  the  Institute,  at  the 
end  of  his  Sophomore  year  he  was  chosen  for  the  Hasty 
Pudding,  in  his  Junior  year  he  became  a  member  of  the 
Alpha  Delta  Phi,  and  in  his  last  year  was  among  those 
elected  to  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa.  In  these  societies  he  was 
interested,  but  not  taking  them  too  seriously,  making  his 
contributions  of  verses  and  essays  as  the  occasion  demanded.1 

1  Phillips  Brooks  was  a  member  of  the  following  societies  at  Harvard :  Anon- 
yma,  Institute  of  1770,  Natural  History  Society,  Phi  Beta  Kappa,  Alpha  Delta 


MT.  15-19]       HARVARD  COLLEGE  71 

He  took  his  part  in  the  Pudding  theatricals,  but  his  cast  was 
generally  determined  by  his  height  and  not  by  his  proficiency 
as  an  actor.  He  was  a  Harvard  man  in  every  sense,  reflect- 
ing that  peculiar  quality  with  which  Harvard  stamps  her  chil- 
dren, however  difficult  it  may  be  of  analysis  or  description. 

The  course  of  study  was  simple,  the  classics  predominating 
in  the  first  two  years,  while  in  the  last  two  a  student  was  at 
liberty  to  give  the  preference  to  mathematics  and  the  natural 
sciences  or  to  follow  literature,  English  and  classical.  Phil- 
lips Brooks  chose  the  latter  alternative.  His  record  as  a 
student  shows  that  he  possessed  the  capacity  for  exact  scholar- 
ship, but  also  that  he  had  no  ambition  to  maintain  a  high 
rank  in  his  class.  During  his  Freshman  year  he  was  ranked 
fifth,  but  he  was  then  just  out  of  the  Latin  School,  whose  pre- 
paration was  so  thorough  that  its  boys  were  at  an  advantage 
in  Harvard,  and  did  not  need  to  work  hard  to  maintain  an 
advanced  standing.  In  his  Sophomore  year  he  seems  to  have 
begun  with  an  effort  to  maintain  a  high  grade  in  all  his  stud- 
ies. But  for  some  reason  he  failed  to  do  so,  and  at  the  end 
of  the  year  he  was  sixteenth  in  rank  in  a  class  of  seventy- 
one.  Nor  in  the  two  following  years  did  his  relative  stand- 
ing vary ;  as  a  Junior  he  stood  thirteenth,  and  with  this  rank 
he  graduated,  his  class  then  numbering  sixty-six.  He  had  no 
taste  for  mathematics,  as  has  been  remarked.  One  may  trace 
his  effort  to  overcome  what  must  have  been  an  aversion.  It 
was  not  for  want  of  capacity  that  he  did  not  conquer  its 
difficulties,  but  he  lacked  the  interest  to  persevere ;  when  it 
came  to  examinations  he  appears  to  have  made  up  his  mind 
that  the  case  was  hopeless,  ancT  to  have  made  little  prepara- 
tion for  the  final  test.  But,  with  this  exception,  he  showed 

Phi,  Hasty  Padding  Clnb.  The  Anonyma  was  formed  by  his  class  of  1855  as  * 
debating  society.  Of  the  five  named  the  Alpha  Delta  Phi  was  the  most  liter- 
ary, bnt  the  class,  which  was  brilliant  above  the  average,  did  not  take  any  of  the 
societies  seriously.  They  found  relaxation  in  the  meetings  and  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  social  intercourse.  They  got  their  inspiration  and  mental  training  and 
the  art  of  clearly  expressing  their  thoughts  from  such  men  as  Dr.  James  Walker, 
Professor  Bowen,  and  Professor  Child,  and  drank  wisdom  from  the  lips  of  Agas- 
si/., Longfellow,  Felton,  Gray,  Levering,  Peirce,  Lane,  and  Cooke.  (C.  A.  C., 
From  Notes  and  Queries  in  Boston  Transcript.) 


72  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1851-55 

peculiar  power  to  succeed  in  any  examination.  Whatever 
might  have  been  his  grade  for  the  daily  recitations,  his  mark 
at  an  examination  was  apt  to  be  a  high  one,  not  seldom  the 
maximum.  This  showed  what  he  could  do  when  he  tried. 
He  evinced  a  taste  for  natural  history,  and  did  well  in  chem- 
istry, but  on  the  whole  cannot  be  said  to  have  been  attracted 
by  the  natural  sciences.  He  read  sufficiently  to  get  the 
results  of  the  scientific  process,  but  to  its  methods  remained 
more  or  less  indifferent.  Although  he  had  a  deep  interest  in 
history,  in  its  ordinary  presentation  he  did  not  find  what  he 
wanted.  It  was  something  more  to  him  than  the  accurate 
recital  of  human  events.  In  its  biographical  form  lay  its 
deepest  charm.  Hence,  in  this  department,  judged  by  the 
college  standard,  he  did  not  reach  the  highest  excellence. 
His  grade  is  not  as  high  as  one  might  have  expected  in  liter- 
ary work,  such  as  forensics  and  themes.  But  as  these  were 
coupled  with  elocution,  the  falling  off  is  less  remarkable. 
During  his  Sophomore  year  his  mark  in  elocution  was  100, 
where  the  highest  given  was  140.  He  gave  no  sign  of  being 
an  orator.  It  is  recalled  of  him  in  his  college  days,  as  it 
was  known  of  him  in  his  later  years,  that  he  despised  elocu- 
tion, as  begetting  self -consciousness,  at  war  with  naturalness 
and  simplicity.  He  could  not  have  been  wholly  unattractive 
or  without  impressiveness  as  a  speaker,  even  though  still 
awkward  and  embarrassed  by  shyness.  When  he  became 
known  as  a  pulpit  orator,  those  who  remembered  him  in  his 
college  days  were  surprised.  If  they  had  looked  for  his 
distinction  in  life,  it  had  not  been  in  this  direction.  The 
college  did  what  it  could  to  prepare  the  students  for  pub- 
lic life.  Frequent  exercises  in  declamation  were  required 
during  the  Junior  and  Senior  years.  There  was  the  Boylston 
prize  also,  awarded  for  excellence  on  this  ground  alone. 
But  it  was  difficult  to  cultivate  the  powers  of  elocution, 
when  any  one  assumed,  as  did  Phillips  Brooks,  that  it  was 
all  a  vain  show,  that  if  a  man  had  something  to  say,  he 
would  find  out  for  himself  how  to  say  it.  But  it  was  a  good 
thing  for  him  that  he  was  forced  to  pay  some  attention  to 
the  subject  of  public  speaking  while  in  college,  as  in  the 


JET.  15-19]    HARVARD  COLLEGE  73 

Junior  exhibition,  long  since  abolished,  but  then  a  signal 
honor,  anticipating  the  awards  of  the  Senior  year.  His 
earliest  delivery,  as  he  stood  on  the  platform  in  Harvard 
Hall  in  the  large  lecture  room  on  the  second  floor,  was 
identical  in  manner  with  his  latest,  marked  by  the  same 
extraordinary  rapidity  of  utterance.  This  rapidity  of  speech 
was  something  constitutional  ;  it  was  not  adopted  to  cover 
any  natural  defect  of  utterance,  for  he  had  none;  it  was 
simply  the  natural  expression  of  the  man. 

In  what  was  then  called  intellectual  philosophy  he  main- 
tained a  high  standing,  but  not  the  highest,  and  the  same 
is  true  of  rhetoric  and  logic.  The  history  of  abstract  ideas 
had  no  charm  for  him,  nor  the  formal  attempt  to  place  laws 
for  the  human  mind  in  rhetoric  or  logic.  The  studies  in 
which  he  did  excel  were  the  languages.  In  Greek,  he  took 
uniformly  the  highest  mark,  and  was  very  close  to  the  high- 
est in  Latin.  French  he  seems  to  have  played  with,  con- 
tent in  acquiring  a  good  reading  knowledge,  but  apparently 
despairing  of  its  refinements.  For  German,  which  he  took 
as  an  elective,  he  showed  greater  respect,  and  became  able 
to  read  it  with  comparative  ease.  It  may  have  been  that 
in  his  devotion  to  Greek  and  to  Latin  he  had  in  view  the 
possibility  of  a  teacher's  profession,  but  he  had  also  a 
genuine  love  and  appreciation  of  the  Greek  literature;  he 
read  Greek  for  the  pleasure  it  gave  him,  and  continued  to 
do  so  when  it  was  no  longer  a  task  of  the  schools.  And  of 
Latin  it  may  be  said  also  that  it  had  ceased  to  be  with  him 
a  dead  language.  This,  then,  was  something  positive  among 
the  results  of  his  Harvard  training.  We  may  say  of  him 
that  he  could  have  been  what  is  technically  known  as  a 
scholar;  he  had  become  possessed  of  the  tools  of  learning;  he 
was  competent  to  have  added  to  the  stock  of  human  learning 
by  study  and  research. 

But  no  overpowering  influence  bore  him  in  this  direction. 
What  stood  in  his  way  was  his  love  of  literature  as  the  reve- 
lation of  man,  the  yearning  to  enter  into  the  deeper  experi- 
ences of  life,  to  know  the  world  he  lived  in.  He  took  his 
college  course  easily,  if  judged  from  the  scholastic  point  of 


74  PHILLIPS  BROOKS         [1851-55 

view,  though  he  must  have  worked  with  some  diligence  at 
the  prescribed  routine  to  have  maintained  his  rank.  But 
he  gave  the  impression  of  one  who  was  not  obliged  to  drudge 
in  order  to  master  his  studies;  he  seemed  to  be  at  leisure 
when  others  were  working,  and  showed  no  anxiety  lest  he 
should  fail.  No  one,  however,  could  have  worked  more 
diligently  than  he  in  the  chosen  line  he  was  following.  His 
thorough  training,  his  quick  insight,  his  comprehensiveness 
of  mind,  his  capacity  for  mental  concentration,  enabled  him 
to  perform  with  ease  and  speed  the  required  task,  leaving 
him  abundant  leisure  for  discursive  reading,  the  mastery  of 
books,  and  above  all  the  observation  of  life.  One  of  his 
classmates,  Professor  G.  C.  Sawyer  of  Utica,  N.  Y.,  who 
knew  him  in  somewhat  close  association,  says  of  him  during 
his  years  at  Harvard,  that  "'his  faculties  were  in  course  of 
rapid,  yet  not  too  rapid  development.  He  read  largely  and, 
though  not  superficially,  yet  with  an  extraordinary  speed. 
He  was  endowed  with  a  marvellous  gift  of  very  rapidly 
taking  in  a  printed  page.  He  would  lie  on  his  back  for 
hours  at  a  time,  reading."  He  drew  books  from  the  col- 
lege library  or  availed  himself  of  other  sources  to  supply 
his  need,  but  his  record  does  not  indicate  him  as  an  omniv- 
orous reader,  to  whom  a  book  was  a  book,  whatever  its 
nature,  nor  did  he  range  through  many  books  out  of  idle 
curiosity  to  know  something  of  their  contents.  Yet  in  the 
line  of  his  reading  he  was  pursuing  an  independent  develop- 
ment, unshackled  by  prescription  or  authority.  Great  as 
were  his  teachers  and  inspiring  the  influences  around  him, 
still  there  was  no  dominating  influence  which  controlled  his 
thought  or  carried  him  away  captive  to  some  power  other  than 
his  own.  There  were  no  literary  men,  no  great  books  to 
which  he  came  prepared  to  swear  allegiance.  When  he  en- 
tered Harvard  with  its  large  library  at  his  disposal,  he  was 
at  first  like  a  child  wandering  in  its  alcoves,  hardly  knowing 
what  one  book  out  of  the  large  number  he  should  choose 
to  take  from  the  shelves,  wherewith  to  make  his  beginning. 
The  book  that  finally  attracted  him  was  the  poems  of  Love- 
lace,  one  of  the  minor  poets  of  the  Elizabethan  age.  That 


.  15-19]     HARVARD   COLLEGE  75 

and  its  companion  volume,  Lodge's  and  Chalkhill's  poems, 
which  he  next  took  out,  were  beautiful  specimens  of  print- 
ing and  in  most  attractive  bindings.  The  love  of  poetry 
and  of  beautiful  things  to  handle  may  be  discovered  in  his 
choice.  In  the  decade  of  the  fifties,  there  were  many  power- 
ful writers  of  English,  who  were  moulding  the  thoughts  of 
their  generation.  Carlyle  was  then  at  his  best,  Emerson  also, 
and  Tennyson;  George  Eliot  was  beginning  her  career;  Rus- 
kin  had  come  to  his  mission;  Thackeray's  great  novels  were 
appearing  year  by  year,  and  Dickens  was  fascinating  the 
world.  But  at  first  Phillips  Brooks  seems  not  to  have  heard 
of  them,  or  to  be  ready  for  them.  He  went  to  the  older 
writers,  Walter  Scott  and  Washington  Irving.  He  appears 
to  have  been  particularly  drawn  to  the  writers  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century,  Boswell's  "  Johnson,"  Johnson  himself,  Gold- 
smith, Dryden,  Swift,  Leigh  Hunt,  Hume,  and  others.  The 
English  poets  of  the  eighteenth  century  and  of  the  early  part 
of  the  nineteenth  had  their  especial  charm.  But  Wordsworth 
was  not  yet  among  them.  He  read  Shakespeare,  and  books 
illustrating  his  age.  He  took  up  Lamb  and  Southey,  but  did 
not  at  first  discover  Milton  or  Coleridge.  The  French  Revo- 
lution he  studied  with  the  aid  of  Thiers.  There  is  evidence 
of  a  strong  taste  for  biography.  He  dipped  into  astronomy, 
and  read  Lavater's  "Physiognomy."  In  all  this  he  was  wan- 
dering at  his  own  sweet  will.  There  was  as  yet  no  English 
Department  at  Harvard.  Professor  Child's  work  lay  in  the 
direction  of  Early  English  or  of  Anglo-Saxon.  But  his  re- 
cord of  reading  reflects  credit  on  his  own  discernment.  He 
had  found  his  way  into  the  world's  literature  and  knew  what 
he  needed.  There  was  a  calming,  cooling  influence  in  these 
writers  of  the  eighteenth  century,  with  their  quaint  world,  at 
such  wide  remove  from  the  feverish  desire  for  reforms,  the  in- 
cessant agitation,  the  sentimental  aspirations  and  vagaries,  the 
new  interpretations  of  the  age  into  which  he  was  born.  Here 
lay  something  of  the  preparation  for  his  life  work.  He 
gained  a  picture  of  life  in  another  age,  which  afforded  a  basis 
for  comparison  and  criticism  when  he  should  come  to  the 
work  of  his  own  time.  He  learned  to  know  and  to  honor  the 


76  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1851-55 

purely  human  amidst  the  disguises  of  past  generations. 
These  writers  of  the  eighteenth  century  harmonized  admira- 
bly with  his  favorite  classics,  Greek  and  Latin,  reflecting 
their  influence  and  something  of  their  outlook  on  human  life. 

But  finally  some  books  which  were  modern  he  also  mas- 
tered. Into  that  vast  soul  with  its  void  yet  to  be  filled,  all 
fresh  as  with  the  dews  of  the  morning,  and  rich  with  un- 
known possibilities,  some  utterances  sank  deeply  and  took 
possession  of  the  unoccupied  ground.  Carlyle's  "Life  of 
Cromwell "  was  one  of  these.  The  influence  of  that  book 
never  was  lost.  It  created  a  deep  interest  in  the  names 
which  were  associated  with  the  Puritan  struggle.  From 
that  time  he  began  to  be  at  home  with  its  personages,  with 
Milton  and  Baxter  and  Jeremy  Taylor;  he  measured  its 
issues  and  grew  stronger  and  clearer  by  their  contemplation. 
In  after  life  it  was  his  ambition  to  write  a  Life  of  Cromwell, 
for  which  he  made  preparation  by  collecting  materials  in  his 
many  visits  to  England.  Carlyle's  "Heroes  and  Hero-Wor- 
ship" became  a  handbook  for  a  time.  His  "French  Revolu- 
tion "  he  admired  to  the  last,  as  a  masterpiece  of  art,  but  for 
"Sartor  Resartus  "  he  came  to  have  a  feeling  of  contempt  as 
a  hollow  and  superficial  cry.  He  read  Emerson,  but  there 
are  no  traces  of  an  influence  upon  his  mind,  such  as  Carlyle 
produced.  The  writer  who  exerted  the  strongest  influence 
was  Tennyson.  "In  Memoriam  "  had  been  published  in  1849. 
From  the  time  he  read  it,  it  kept  running  in  his  head;  he 
imitated  its  metres  and  its  subjects  in  poetic  efforts  of  his 
own. 

There  were  other  opportunities  than  those  offered  by  the 
college,  where  a  man's  work  might  be  recognized  and  re- 
warded. Such  societies  as  the  Institute,  the  Hasty  Pudding, 
or  the  Alpha  Delta  Phi  possessed  a  literary  character,  calling 
on  their  members  for  occasional  essays  or  orations.  Into 
these  efforts  he  put  his  full  strength,  showing  at  times  rare 
gifts  of  expression,  a  large  and  rich  vocabulary,  with  matu- 
rity of  thought  and  insight.  One  would  say  that  he  worked 
well  when  he  followed  his  own  bent,  and  indeed  required  this 
freedom  of  inclination  in  order  to  manifest  his  strength.  In 


ALT.  15-19]     HARVARD   COLLEGE  77 

college  themes  he  did  what  was  required,  and  that  was  all; 
but  in  the  occasional  papers  where  he  chose  his  own  subject 
and  was  in  sympathy  with  his  audience,  free  to  give  full 
expression  to  his  thought,  his  wit,  or  humor,  he  was  unsur- 
passed. 

His  first  attempt  of  this  kind  still  shows  something  of  con- 
ventionality, or  indicates  that  he  was  drawing  from  resources 
not  furnished  by  his  own  experience.  It  is  an  essay  entitled 
"The  Lecturer,"  read  before  the  Institute  in  the  earlier  part 
of  his  Sophomore  year.  He  begins  by  glorifying  popular 
education,  remarking  that  in  the  broad  sense  it  is  a  thing 
of  to-day ;  that  this  present  age  has  seen  its  rise  and  its  un- 
precedented progress.  He  goes  on  to  speak  of  the  lecturer, 
claiming  him  as  an  "institution"  of  this  modern  age,  an 
important  agent  in  the  diffusion  of  knowledge,  but  peculiarly 
a  Yankee  institution.  "A  Yankee,  when  first  he  won  his 
name,  struck  out  for  himself  from  the  flint  of  his  native 
rocks  two  twin  sparks,  and  gave  to  his  children  the  double 
heritage  of  whittling  and  lecturing."  We  need  not  here 
repeat  his  justification  of  the  lecturer.  He  was  writing  at  a 
time  when  our  best  thinkers  did  not  feel  it  beneath  them  to 
go  out  into  the  towns  about  Boston,  creating  a  sensation  by 
their  appearance.  Emerson  and  Dr.  Holmes  and  many  others 
were  favorites  with  their  audiences,  and  no  doubt  exerted 
a  great  influence  in  this  way.  Boston  was  lecture-ridden 
in  those  days.  The  father  of  Phillips  Brooks  comments  in 
his  journal  upon  the  lecturers  whom  he  hears,  and  the  son 
in  the  home  circle  must  have  been  impressed  with  the  im- 
portance of  this  method  of  teaching.1  But  the  Lyceum  has 
passed  away,  at  least  for  the  present.  There  was  some- 
thing artificial  about  it,  and  finally  it  became  tiresome. 
Journalism  may  have  contributed  to  its  extinction.  But  it 
furnished  a  subject  for  Phillips  Brooks  in  his  first  independ- 
ent effort  to  try  his  strength. 

1  The  Mercantile  Library  offered  a  prize  for  the  best  report  of  its  lectures, 
and  among  the  competitors  were  the  father  of  Phillips  Brooks  and  the  late  Sen- 
ator Simmer.  Mr.  Brooks  records  in  his  journal  his  defeat,  and  also  that  the 
prize  was  taken  by  "  a  Mr.  Charles  Sumner." 


78  PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [1851-55 

His  next  attempt  in  this  line  of  independent  essay  writing 
is  no  more  successful  than  the  first.  It  was  read  in  the 
beginning  of  the  Junior  year  before  the  Alpha  Delta  Phi,  to 
which  he  had  recently  been  elected.  He  had  evidently  some 
difficulty  in  finding  a  title  for  the  material  at  his  disposal. 
His  essay  was  finally  called  "  September,"  after  the  month 
in  which  it  was  read.  But  he  had  little  or  nothing  to  say 
upon  its  natural  beauties  or  characteristics.  He  begins  at 
once  with  a  list  of  the  distinguished  persons  who  have  been 
born  or  who  have  died  in  September.  He  selects  from  these 
three  names  on  which  he  proposes  to  comment.  They  will 
constitute  so  many  dishes,  from  which  to  taste.  Steele  shall 
be  the  one  representing  literature,  Mohammed  and  Bossuet 
shall  stand  for  religion,  and  Pompey  for  the  army.  All 
this  is  very  artificial,  as  it  need  not  be  remarked;  but  the 
style  is  graceful,  and  he  is  speaking  for  himself.  Moham- 
med interests  him.  He  regards  him  as  an  impostor,  yet 
seeks  to  get  at  the  man,  how  far  he  was  a  genius,  what 
kind  of  a  conscience  he  must  have  had.  In  this  connection 
he  says:  "It  may  sound  like  a  paradox,  but  it  is  nevertheless 
true,  that  the  most  weak-headed  men  are  always  the  most 
headstrong."  Evidently,  also,  he  had  reflected  upon  the 
strange  career  of  Steele,  whose  life  he  summarizes  effectively. 
Beneath  the  formal  defects  of  this  essay  may  be  discerned 
the  traces  of  power. 

When  we  come  to  the  next  essays,  written  at  the  age  of 
seventeen,  we  see  Phillips  Brooks  at  an  important  moment  in 
the  history  of  his  growth.  The  essays  in  the  Latin  School 
were  somewhat  perfunctory,  although  with  flashes  of  native 
power  or  insight,  but  chiefly  showing  his  large  heart,  which 
even  as  a  boy  sought  to  embrace  his  whole  world.  His  first 
essays  in  Harvard  show  signs  of  embarrassment,  where  sub- 
stance and  form  have  not  yet  fully  been  harmonized.  Now 
there  comes  a  series  of  essays,  of  which  the  faded  manu- 
scripts of  four  have  been  preserved,  revealing  his  most  dis- 
tinctive characteristics,  his  knowledge,  his  power  of  expres- 
sion, his  appropriation  of  truth  by  the  imagination.  That 
was  happening  to  him  which  happened  to  the  leaders  of  the 


.  15-19]     HARVARD  COLLEGE  79 

Renaissance  in  the  fifteenth  century,  when,  after  a  period  of 
long  seclusion  in  the  nursery,  as  it  were,  of  medievalism, 
they  came  forth  and  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  larger 
world  of  human  life,  the  world  as  it  really  is,  and  not  as  it  is 
seen  when  looked  at  in  the  light  of  theory  or  provincial  exclu- 
siveness.  Erasmus  had  collected  in  his  "  Adagia  "  the  wis- 
dom of  the  nations  in  all  ages.  Montaigne  in  his  "Essays" 
commented  on  the  usages  of  different  peoples,  recognizing 
that  there  were  different  ways  of  looking  at  life,  but  all  of 
them  significant  as  expressive  of  life.  If  it  was  a  critical 
moment  in  the  experience  of  these  men,  so  was  it  also,  and 
much  more,  critical  in  the  case  of  a  youth  to  whom  the  world 
was  now  opening  up  its  significance.  In  the  case  of  Erasmus, 
Montaigne,  and  others,  there  had  been  induced  a  skeptical 
mood,  the  conviction  that  there  was  truth  in  other  lands  than 
the  Christian,  that  the  church  had  no  monopoly  of  human 
wisdom.  Phillips  Brooks  was  following  in  the  same  direc- 
tion ;  the  duty  was  imposed  on  him  also,  of  comparing  other 
worlds  with  his  own,  of  adjusting  the  truth  and  the  life  of 
other  ages  and  peoples  with  what  had  come  to  him  by  tradi- 
tion in  a  Christian  household.  He  did  not  fall  into  skepti- 
cism ;  at  least  there  is  no  trace  of  his  having  yielded  the  faith 
of  his  childhood,  but  there  is  evidence  of  some  long  struggle 
and  absorbing  effort  before  he  measured  for  himself  the 
extent  of  the  problem  and  worked  out  his  own  solution.  In 
these  essays  the  man  stands  before  us  who  throughout  his 
career  showed  such  marvellous  power  in  the  interpretation  of 
life.  Now  and  then  he  yields  indeed  to  the  spirit  of  the 
mocker,  as  it  was  manifested  in  Rabelais,  or  indulges  in 
raillery.  But  that  is  not  the  final  result ;  beneath  there  lies 
a  deeper  seriousness,  the  sense  of  the  seriousness  of  life,  — 
that  feeling  which  he  had  inherited  from  Puritan  ancestors,  — 
too  deeply  ingrained  a  mood  to  be  overcome.  Yet  with  him 
it  changes  its  form,  and  becomes  an  intense  consciousness  of 
life.  He  was  alive  in  himself  at  every  pore  of  his  being,  and 
no  life  or  expression  of  life  could  he  regard  as  alien  to  him- 
self. It  was  in  something  of  this  spirit  that  he  wrote  these 
later  essays.  They  tell  us  what  he  had  been  doing  with  his 


8o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1851-55 

time  in  college  quite  as  much  as  do  the  marks  he  received 
for  recitation  or  examination.  They  were  spontaneous  pro- 
ducts not  called  for  by  the  college  routine ;  he  gained  nothing 
by  them  for  his  college  rank  as  a  scholar,  but  he  revealed 
himself  in  his  power  to  his  contemporaries,  and  he  also 
revealed  himself  to  his  own  soul. 

These  general  remarks  upon  his  later  essays  at  Harvard 
must  be  taken  in  place  of  any  detailed  analysis  which  would 
do  them  justice.  They  are  too  long  to  be  reproduced  here, 
each  of  them  occupying  an  hour  in  the  delivery,  for  they 
were  written  to  be  read.  The  first  of  them  is  entitled  "On 
National  Greetings  and  Sports  as  Hints  of  National  Charac- 
ter." It  was  read  before  the  Hasty  Pudding  Club,  December 
27,  1853.  It  makes  the  impression  of  a  wide  knowledge  of 
the  subject  in  the  writer.  He  is  bringing  together  the  fruit 
of  all  his  reading.  Much  of  his  information  was  gained  from 
the  "Essays  "  of  Montaigne.  There  was  another  source  over 
which  he  had  browsed  to  some  purpose,  —  the  now  antiquated 
"Library  of  Useful  Knowledge,"  whose  volumes  covered  many 
departments  of  learning.  Drake's  "Literary  Hours"  was  a 
favorite  with  him,  —  a  work  published  in  1804,  and  even 
to-day  an  interesting  book  with  its  melange  of  poetry,  criti- 
cism, and  romance.  Another  book  contributing  to  the  same 
result  was  Sir  Thomas  Browne's  "Vulgar  Errors,"  or  "En- 
quiries into  very  many  Received  Tenents  [sic]  and  commonly 
Received  Truths."  In  addition  to  these  sources  of  information 
was  the  material  derived  from  his  reading  of  the  classics,  and 
the  study  of  Greek  and  Roman  antiquities.  The  manners 
and  sports  of  the  Jewish  people  he  knew  from  his  careful  home 
training  in  the  knowledge  of  the  Bible.  His  essay  is  in- 
terlarded with  quotations  from  various  writers,  Greek  and 
Latin,  German  and  English.  It  might  seem  as  if  he  were 
making  a  display  of  his  learning,  if  it  were  not  that  every 
quotation  told,  and  all  combined  to  illustrate  his  theme.  It 
is  noticeable  that  he  makes  no  distinction  between  Judea  and 
Greece,  Rome,  Egypt,  or  China,  nor  gives  any  preference 
to  Christian  greetings.  There  is  no  effort  to  distinguish 
between  religious  and  secular  things;  all  are  alike  significant 


AT.  15-19]     HARVARD   COLLEGE  81 

as  manifestations  of  human  life.  What  is  still  more  remark- 
able is  the  easy  mastery  of  his  materials.  He  does  not  pre- 
sent his  information  in  a  stiff  formal  manner  as  something 
apart  from  himself,  which  he  has  gleaned.  He  rather  makes 
the  impression  of  an  original  observer,  who  had  entered  into 
the  spirit  of  other  customs  and  usages  and  assimilated  their 
meaning,  reproducing  the  information  gathered  from  books 
with  a  native  power  of  his  own,  and  giving  it  a  deeper  force 
and  reality  from  contact  with  his  imagination.  He  has 
turned  the  literature  of  knowledge  into  the  literature  of 
power.  A  certain  sense  of  humor  underlies  his  treatment  of 
national  manners,  with  an  occasional  touch  of  satire.  Of  the 
Chinese  he  remarks  that  "they  are  not  children,  but  dwarfs. 
They  were  tied  on  at  their  birth  like  Indian  papooses  to  the 
backs  of  old  prejudices  and  opinions,  and  have  never  been 
allowed  to  travel  faster  than  their  mother  squaws  could 
walk."  But  in  the  main  the  treatment  of  his  subject  is  seri- 
ous, —  to  illustrate  how  all  that  is  distinctive  in  a  nation 
finds  expression  in  its  manners,  or  its  mode  of  daily  greeting, 
whether  it  be  religion  with  the  Jew,  or  valor  with  the  Roman. 
At  the  same  time  he  thinks  a  certain  law  runs  through  the 
history  of  his  theme.  Salutations  were  at  first  simple  and 
natural  expression,  then  they  became  complex  and  elaborate 
and  meaningless,  and  now  they  are  showing  signs  of  a  return 
to  simplicity.  That  word  "  simplicity  "  was  to  represent  to  him 
in  his  later  life,  as  in  his  boyhood,  the  most  efficient  method 
of  attaining  a  great  end.  It  was  one  of  the  catchwords  of 
his  philosophy  of  life  and  religion.  It  is  a  constantly  recur- 
ring word  in  his  early  essays  and  in  his  later  sermons.  It 
may  be  that  in  this  devotion  to  simplicity  he  is  reflecting  the 
influence  of  Carlyle,  but  if  so  the  seed  had  fallen  into  good 
ground  to  bring  forth  in  its  time  a  hundredfold.  These 
prophetic  words  of  Carlyle  found  in  him  a  great  fulfilment : 
"Veracity,  true  simplicity  of  heart,  how  valuable  are  these 
alway.  He  that  speaks  what  is  really  in  him  will  find  men 
to  listen  though  under  never  such  impediments." 

One  other  remark  is  suggested  by  this  essay.     He  was 
here  combining  in  his  own  way  those  two  things  which  are 


82  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1851-55 

too  often  held  apart,  the  outward  form  and  the  inner  spirit. 
These  were  tendencies  in  him  which  it  is  hopeless  ever  to  see 
perfectly  reconciled,  —  the  one  coming  from  his  father,  the 
other  from  his  mother.  But  at  this  early  age  he  had  caught 
the  principle,  the  psychological  interest  which  binds  them 
together.  The  external  form  and  symbol  must  be  infused 
with  spirit,  or  it  must  lose  its  meaning  and  value.  But  also 
spirit  neglectful  of  the  form  may  become  an  empty  dream. 

This  essay  was  the  first  independent  effort  of  a  boy  of 
seventeen  who  was  seeking  to  understand  the  world  in  which 
he  found  himself.  That  this  purpose  of  interpreting  the 
world  and  human  life  constituted  his  deepest  interest  is 
shown  by  his  returning  to  the  subject  in  the  following  year, 
when  he  read  another  essay  of  a  similar  kind  before  the 
Hasty  Pudding  Club.  In  his  first  essay  he  had  viewed  man- 
ners and  sports  as  signs  of  national  character.  He  now  seeks 
their  bearing  upon  the  individual  man.  He  is  trying  to 
enter  the  consciousness  of  other  ages,  to  know  what  it  was 
like  to  have  been  a  man  of  the  ancient  world  or  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages.  His  ideal  would  combine  the  freshness  of  the 
early  youth  of  the  world  with  all  its  later  accumulation  of 
worth.  There  is  fascination  for  him  in  the  chivalry  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  he  is  inclined  to  think  this  period  of  his- 
tory has  been  too  much  maligned.  He  is  not  so  sure  that 
the  modern  world  is  in  all  its  aspects  superior  to  antecedent 
worlds.  Hence  his  contrast  of  its  feverish  activity,  its  greed 
for  gold,  with  the  calmness  of  an  age  that  is  gone.  And 
yet  something  of  that  calmness  of  spirit  has  descended  from 
the  older  world,  and  constitutes  a  restful  element  in  modern 
life.  He  is  dealing  seriously  with  great  ideas  and  truths,  yet 
his  touch  is  light  and  even  playful.  He  compares  the  world 
to  a  great  toy,  a  kaleidoscope,  whose  constituents  are  like 
little  bits  of  glass  of  all  sorts,  sizes,  and  colors,  shaken  to- 
gether at  random.  As  they  fall  apart,  or  fall  together,  or 
arrange  themselves  in  gaudy  stars  or  in  sober  colors  and 
more  solid  forms,  we  have  the  changing  pictures  of  human 
history. 

That  this  desire  to  fathom  the  meaning  of  life  in  this 


JET.  15-19]      HARVARD   COLLEGE  83 

world,  and  if  possible  to  get  its  formula,  was  his  ruling 
motive  is  shown  in  another  long  and  elaborate  essay,  written 
at  the  age  of  eighteen  and  read  before  the  Institute,  July  13, 
1853.  It  deserves  a  brief  summary.  He  takes  for  his  motto 
words  of  Carlyle :  "  Men  search  for  worlds  in  the  heavens 
above,  while  there  are  others  as  bright  and  nearer  around 
them  on  the  earth."  He  now  starts  out  with  a  new  figure, 
as  giving  a  controlling  imity  to  his  experience.  Every 
thoughtful  man  he  compares  to  an  astronomer,  pointing  his 
telescope  in  many  directions.  There  is  the  telescope  of 
memory  which  scans  the  past,  or  the  telescope  of  hope  for 
discerning  the  future.  There  is  the  glass  through  which  a 
man  looks  inward.  In  the  first  part  of  his  essay  he  is  weigh- 
ing the  value  of  the  past,  as  compared  with  the  present, 
holding  the  balance  carefully  lest  on  the  one  hand  the  past 
should  be  overrated,  or  on  the  other  hand,  lest  it  be  under- 
rated in  the  absorption  with  existing  things.  The  past,  he 
is  inclined  to  believe,  was  as  great  in  its  way  as  the  present. 
Ah'eady  he  is  beginning  to  outgrow  the  vast  assumptions  of 
the  American  schoolboy.  "The  American,"  he  remarks, 
"is  born  with  a  consummate  prejudice  in  favor  of  his  birth- 
place, and  all  that  belongs  to  it.  Unable  to  look  back  upon 
a  long  array  of  historic  wonders  in  his  country's  annals,  he 
naturally  has  recourse  to  the  future,  and  declares  that  the 
world  shall  yet  see  that  there  is  no  other  nation  on  the  face 
of  the  earth  which  will  be  able  to  keep  pace  with  his  own, 
and  no  race  to  be  compared  with  him  and  his  descendants." 
With  this  ranting  about  the  future,  this  tendency  to  wipe 
out  the  past,  as  no  longer  worthy  of  consideration,  he  was 
out  of  sympathy.  Humanity,  as  a  whole  and  in  all  its  his- 
tory, had  already  become  to  him  a  sacred  reality. 

From  this  preliminary  discussion,  he  turns  to  study  the 
various  worlds  within  the  world  of  human  society.  He  treats 
of  the  divisions  among  men,  the  laboring  classes,  the  literary 
and  the  aristocratic.  There  is  an  aristocracy  of  wealth, 
which  is  the  lowest ;  an  aristocracy  of  birth,  where  "  the  man 
of  family  takes  the  measure  of  his  merits  with  his  line  of 
ancestry.  If  he  be  poor,  he  wraps  himself  up  snugly  in  his 


84  PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [1851-55 

coat-of-arms  and  makes  the  length  of  his  lineage  atone  for 
the  scantiness  of  his  purse;"  and  lastly,  there  is  the  aris- 
tocracy of  merit,  the  truly  best,  whose  object  is  to  raise, 
rather  than  to  crush,  its  inferiors.  He  defends  the  idea  of 
grades  in  society  in  order  that  there  may  be  something  to 
look  up  to  above  the  sordid  plane  of  the  many,  examples  in 
the  minor  duties  and  decencies  and  refinements  of  life.  "All 
men  are  created  equal,  says  the  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence, but  it  is  a  doctrine  disproved  by  every  birth.  To 
live  in  perfect  equality  has  been  tried  and  found  impracti- 
cal." But  the  true  aristocracy  of  a  Utopian  world  would 
aim  to  elevate  the  whole.  He  concludes  with  words  which 
are  personal :  — 

I  am  aware  that  the  view  which  I  have  taken  of  these  worlds  has 
been  very  superficial  and  very  incomplete,  but  I  do  not  pretend 
to  be  a  philosopher,  though  philosophers  are  the  mushroom  growth 
of  every  soil,  tilled  or  untilled,  at  the  present  time.  They  are 
springing  up  in  every  corner  of  the  land.  They  talk  in  philoso- 
phical style  of  the  philosophy  of  the  present  and  the  philosophy  of 
the  past.  Travelling  with  them  is  the  philosophy  of  locomotion, 
and  a  plain  dinner  the  philosophy  of  consumption.  But  is  this 
true  philosophy?  They  acknowledge  that  life  is  a  grave  problem, 
but  they  prefer  to  guess  at  the  answer  rather  than  to  work  it  out 
by  slow  and  labored  reasoning.  They  would  rather  drop  their 
little  buckets  in  the  deep  well,  too  deep  for  the  ropes  of  their 
ideas  to  reach  the  water,  than  to  drink  from  the  pure  gushing 
spring  that  starts  from  the  surface  of  the  ground.  The  true 
philosopher  is  something  very  different  from  this.  He  is  the  real 
astronomer,  the  mental  Herschel,  living  with  one  eye  always  on 
the  heavens  and  the  other  on  the  records  of  past  wisdom.  The 
philosopher  is  universal  in  his  views.  He  is  no  mean  contempti- 
ble Janus  with  only  two  pair  of  eyes,  but  a  perfect  Argus  with  an 
hundred  pair  of  eyes  all  over,  and  looking  in  all  directions,  a 
moral  Gulliver  who  has  visited  every  world,  and  who  knows  the 
whole  geography,  the  great  and  the  little,  the  Brobdignag  and 
the  Lilliput,  of  the  human  heart. 

In  1854,  while  in  his  Junior  year,  he  made  his  first  en- 
trance into  print  in  the  pages  of  the  "Harvard  Monthly,"  of 
which  he  was  one  of  the  editors.  The  title  of  his  article  ia 
"The  English  Table  Talkers."  From  a  literary  point  of 


Phillips  Brooks  in  his  Junior  Year  at  Harvard 


JET.  15-19]     HARVARD   COLLEGE  85 

view  this  is  the  most  complete  of  all  his  early  efforts.  The 
style  has  the  free  swing  and  graceful  ease  of  his  later  work. 
There  is  a  tone  of  mastery  and  power ;  he  utters  himself  with 
confidence  as  though  he  knew;  and  the  whole  paper  is  envi- 
roned with  a  genial  happy  atmosphere.  But  what  is  more 
important,  this  essay  on  "The  English  Table  Talkers  "  reveals 
him  in  his  process  of  development.  It  was  the  direct  fruit 
of  his  reading,  where  he  laid  under  contribution  Walpole  and 
Selden,  Johnson  and  Coleridge.  In  a  short  paper  he  could 
not  say  much,  nor  does  he  attempt  to  illustrate.  But  his 
characterization  is  keen  and  direct.  It  is  not  in  this,  how- 
ever, that  the  significance  of  his  essay  chiefly  lies,  but  rather 
in  his  appreciation  of  the  reason  why  table  talk  has  so  potent 
a  charm.  He  sees  that  Boswell's  reports  of  Johnson's  con- 
versation are  more  interesting  than  "Rasselas"  or  anything 
which  Johnson  wrote;  that  Selden's  "Casual  Remarks"  are 
interesting  when  his  "Mare  Clausum "  may  be  dull.  He 
admires  the  enthusiasm,  the  perfect  sanity  also,  which  the 
conversation  reveals.  Nothing  pleases  him  more  than  this 
sound  judgment  and  prevailing  good  sense,  particularly  in 
Coleridge.  Of  Boswell's  "Johnson"  he  remarks:  "It  has 
been  the  friend  and  companion  of  half  the  world  ever  since 
it  first  appeared.  .  .  .  Everybody  scolds  at  Boswell  and 
professes  to  despise  him,  calls  him  hard  names,  and  then 
reads  his  book  over  and  over  again."  The  point  which  he 
is  mainly  concerned  with  is  this,  that  the  secret  of  the 
charm  in  all  these  talkers  lies  in  their  unveiling  of  them- 
selves, so  that  we  see  the  simple,  natural,  unaffected  men, 
—  "the  least  artificial  of  men  in  their  least  artificial  mood." 
Those  who  are  reserved  and  affected  are  yet  desirous  of 
simplicity  and  naturalness  in  others.  In  simple,  free,  and 
natural  talk  there  lies  an  attraction  which  no  other  form  of 
human  appeal  can  rival.  "Men  like  to  be  talked  to  better 
than  to  be  preached  at;  they  prefer  the  easy-chair  to  the 
pulpit." 

He  takes  occasion  in  this  paper,  when  speaking  of  Wal- 
pole, to  give  an  estimate  of  the  value  of  letter  writing.  "He 
was  one  of  the  greatest  of  letter  writers,  and,  perhaps  we 


86  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1851-55 

may  say,  consequently  not  one  of  the  greatest  of  men.  There 
is  a  talent  needed  in  a  good  letter,  as  in  any  other  good 
thing,  but  it  is  never  of  the  highest,  and  often  of  the  lowest 
kind.  As  a  general  thing  we  read  letters  to  be  interested 
and  informed,  but  not  improved ;  and  so  if  interest  and  infor- 
iii:tti<»n,  but  not  improvement,  are  the  result,  we  have  no 
thoughts  of  a  complaint  or  breach  of  promise.  Men  do  not 
drop  true  genius  into  the  post  office,  or  trust  the  evidence  of 
a  great  soul  to  the  letter  bag."  This  pronounced  opinion 
upon  the  value  of  letter  writing  formed  at  the  age  of  eigh- 
teen, he  seems  to  have  retained  as  a  permanent  conviction. 
He  wrote  many  letters  full  of  interest  and  information,  but 
never  with  the  intention  of  dropping  the  evidence  of  a  great 
soul  into  the  post  office. 

The  approbation  of  his  fellow  students  for  these  gratui- 
tous efforts,  which  cost  him  time  and  labor,  was  ratified  by 
the  college  judges,  when,  in  his  Junior  year,  he  offered  an 
essay  in  competition  for  the  first  Bowdoin  prize.  The  topic 
assigned  was  the  "Teaching  of  Tacitus  regarding  Fate  and 
Destiny."  He  had  failed  to  take  the  prize  in  the  Latin 
School,  when  he  wrote  his  elaborate  eulogy  on  "Mathemat- 
ics," for  which  he  had  no  taste;  here  was  a  subject  suited  to 
his  mind,  where  he  could  delve  in  the  sources  and  draw  his 
own  conclusions,  reconstructing  a  distant  age  by  his  imagina- 
tion, analyzing  a  personality,  entering  into  the  moods  and 
thoughts  generated  by  the  peculiar  quality  of  the  time.  He 
applies  to  Tacitus  the  principle  of  development,  studying 
first  his  earlier  writings  and  then  his  later,  in  order  to 
observe  whether  his  reflections  upon  life  changed  with  his 
advancing  years  and  experience.  He  recognized  that  when 
faith  in  the  popular  religion  had  been  shaken,  as  it  was  with 
Tacitus,  so  that  the  worship  of  the  gods,  and  the  gods  them- 
selves, had  become  an  unreality,  the  mind  must  necessarily 
be  driven  to  vacillate  between  the  two  alternatives  of  chance 
or  fate,  as  the  explanation  of  the  movement  of  events.  He 
discriminated  between  the  two  schools  of  history:  the  one 
seeking  to  confine  itselt  to  the  narration  of  outward  events ; 
the  other  haunted  with  the  problem,  as  it  records  the  event, 


JET.  15-19]     HARVARD  COLLEGE  87 

why  it  should  have  taken  the  shape  it  did.  This  problem  he 
detects  in  the  mind  of  Tacitus,  forcing  him  at  times  to 
remark  on  the  mystery  of  life,  but  unable  wholly  to  escape 
from  a  dreary  process  wherein  at  one  moment  it  seemed  as  if 
blind  chance  was  the  last  resort,  or  again,  the  belief  seemed 
rational  that  fate  lay  beneath  the  ordering  of  events.  And 
he  also  recognizes  how  Tacitus  was  oblivious  of  the  new 
religion,  with  its  conception  of  a  revelation,  where  Deity  was 
presented  as  the  creator  and  omnipotent  ruler  of  the  world. 
In  this  essay  there  is  seriousness  and  intensity,  and  also  a 
religious  feeling  not  apparent  in  his  papers  before  the  literary 
societies. 

When  we  turn  from  the  literary  influences  to  which  he 
was  subjecting  himself  with  a  wisdom  better  than  he  knew,  to 
inquire  what  forces  were  acting  upon  his  religious  life,  we  are 
met  with  reserve  and  an  almost  unfathomable  silence.  He 
kept  no  religious  journal  to  record  his  impressions  or  his 
aspirations.  His  mother's  religious  teaching  in  the  home 
circle  was  now  confined  to  the  younger  boys.  It  had  con- 
sisted mainly  in  the  reproduction  of  Dr.  Vinton's  instruc- 
tions to  his  adult  Bible  class,  but  accompanied  with  a  mother's 
fervency  and  her  own  peculiar  emphasis.  That  had  done  its 
work.  When  he  entered  Harvard,  however,  it  could  not 
have  been  long  before  he  felt  the  expansion  of  his  religious 
horizon,  in  whose  unaccustomed  vastness  many  familiar  land- 
marks must  have  seemed  to  shift  their  relative  positions.  In 
these  years  great  changes  were  taking  place  in  the  religious 
world.  But  New  England  differed  widely  in  its  peculiar 
religious  development  from  the  mother  country.  Harvard 
was  a  stranger  to  any  such  religious  reformer  as  John  Henry 
Newman,  who  had  convulsed  Oxford  as  well  as  all  England 
in  the  forties.  Phillips  Brooks  does  not  seem  to  have  heard 
while  in  college  of  either  Pusey  or  Newman.  Next  to 
Emerson,  who  to  some  extent  was  one  of  his  religious  teachers, 
the  most  potent  influence  disturbing  the  familiar  convictions 
of  the  time  was  Theodore  Parker.  Since  1852  he  had  been 
preaching  in  the  Boston  Music  Hall.  In  1852  he  published 
his  "Ten  Sermons  of  Religion,"  and  in  1853  his  "Theism, 


88  PHILLIPS  BROOKS         [1851-55 

Atheism,  and  the  Popular  Theology."  He  was  at  once  the 
delight  of  some,  but  the  terror  of  the  many.  There  was 
sensitiveness  on  the  subject  in  the  Brooks  household.  The 
mother  was  alarmed  at  the  growth  of  his  influence.  Whether 
Phillips  Brooks  listened  at  any  time  to  Parker's  preaching, 
or  had  at  this  stage  of  his  life  read  any  of  Parker's  sermons, 
is  not  known.  But  the  picture  is  a  striking  one  and  offers 
food  for  reflection,  —  the  one  great  preacher  was  in  the  ful- 
ness of  his  strength  while  his  successor,  who  was  to  surpass 
him  in  influence  and  to  undo  the  negative  tendencies  of  his 
thought,  was  slowly  growing  up  in  the  seclusion  of  Harvard. 

It  was  the  essence  of  Parker's  teaching  that  the  divine 
revelation  must  be  submitted  to  the  tribunal  of  human  reason ; 
that  all  purporting  to  be  divine,  whatever  its  source,  however 
imposing  the  prestige  of  its  authority,  must  come  to  this 
tribunal  for  judgment  and  sentence.  No  external  authority 
must  be  allowed  to  overawe  the  soul  of  man  which  was  made 
in  the  divine  image,  with  the  capacities  of  the  divine  nature, 
and  endowed  by  the  divine  will  with  gifts  and  graces,  insight 
and  supreme  authority.  This  was  the  great  clash  and  strug- 
gle of  the  middle  of  the  century.  On  the  one  side,  Newman, 
pleading  with  rare  eloquence  for  the  submission  of  the  soul, 
without  examination,  to  external  authority,  and  carelessly 
adding  to  the  burden  thus  to  be  received  all  the  peculiarities 
of  a  distant  mediaeval  experience;  and  on  the  other  hand, 
Parker,  vehemently  demanding  the  soul's  emancipation  from 
obedience  or  even  deference  to  any  tradition,  exalting  the 
capacity  of  the  soul  by  its  transcendental  endowment  to  the 
position  of  a  supreme  arbiter  in  matters  of  faith.  Parker 
was  the  embodiment  of  the  spirit  of  transcendentalism,  New- 
man that  of  medievalism,  which  was  its  antipodes.  The 
former  best  expressed  the  direction  and  tendency  of  American 
religious  thought;  the  latter  was  captivating  many  of  the 
choicest  English  spirits,  for  whom  transcendentalism  was  an 
impossibility,  but  who  had  no  other  alternative. 

Out  of  this  conflict  there  came  that  phenomenon  so  com- 
mon in  this  period,  what  is  called  "religious  doubt."  It 
affected  young  men  in  the  universities  wherever  thought  had 


JET.  15-19]     HARVARD   COLLEGE  89 

been  awakened.  It  was  illustrated  in  its  most  typical  form 
by  the  case  of  Stirling,  who  had  fallen  under  Carlyle's  influ- 
ence, to  the  destruction  for  a  time  of  his  religious  faith,  and 
leading  to  the  abandonment  of  his  calling  as  a  minister  of 
the  Church  of  England.  Arthur  Hugh  Clough  was  another 
signal  instance  of  its  working,  who  was  in  Boston  in  1852, 
and  had  been  admitted  to  the  friendship  of  Emerson  and 
Longfellow.  But  his  poetry  was  not  yet  known.  Tennyson 
had  illustrated  this  mood  of  religious  doubt  in  his  "In 
Memoriam,"  with  something  more  than  an  artist's  power. 
It  was  the  case  of  those  to  whom  it  would  be  moral  and  intel- 
lectual suicide  to  submit  to  Newman's  guidance,  while  they 
did  not  feel  competent  for  themselves  to  sit  in  judgment  upon 
the  issues  of  the  traditional  faith.  To  such  as  these  Tenny- 
son became  for  the  time  a  religious  teacher,  as  well  as  the 
truest  of  poets.  The  opening  words  of  the  prologue  of  his 
poem  became  an  anchor  to  many  inquiring  spirits,  who  would 
fain  believe,  but  could  not :  — 

Strong  Son  of  God,  immortal  Love, 
Whom  we,  that  have  not  seen  thy  face, 
By  faith,  and  faith  alone,  embrace, 

Believing  where  we  cannot  prove. 

There  is  no  direct  evidence,  as  by  any  confession  of  his 
own,  that  the  soul  of  Phillips  Brooks  was  torn  by  this  re- 
presentative struggle  of  the  moment.  But  there  is  indirect 
evidence  which  points  to  some  inward  disturbance  as  though 
the  depths  of  his  being  were  troubled.  For  one  thing,  he 
delayed  presenting  himself  for  the  rite  of  confirmation.  In 
the  normal  order  of  the  church  the  proper  age  is  from  six- 
teen upwards.  His  brother  William  had  been  confirmed  at 
eighteen,  his  younger  brothers  were  confirmed  at  the  same 
age,  and  even  earlier,  with  the  exception  of  George.  His 
ancestors  had  gone  through  some  religious  experience  while 
in  college,  which  ended  in  "joining  the  church  "  at  the  same 
early  age.  But  he  continued  to  postpone  the  decisive  act 
during  his  years  in  college.  He  knew  well  his  mother's 
wishes;  he  was  not  unmindful  of  her  prayers,  her  one  con* 
Burning  desire  to  see  him  kneeling  at  the  Holy  Communion. 


90  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1851-55 

He  was  dutiful  and  obedient;  his  love  for  his  mother  was 
as  deep  as  the  roots  of  his  being.  He  could  recall  how  his 
father  had  taken  the  momentous  step,  when  it  must  have  cost 
him  no  slight  effort  to  do  so.  There  is  no  trace  of  any  effort 
of  his  parents  to  hurry  or  to  force  the  decision.  If,  as  we 
suppose,  they  refrained  from  so  doing,  they  were  wise.  He 
was  not  ready  for  confirmation,  but  he  was  waiting,  and  that 
is  all  that  can  be  said.  That  he  had  his  thoughts  upon  the 
subject  is  certain;  beyond  that  it  is  impossible  to  speak. 
There  was  but  one  religious  society  in  the  college,  the  Chris- 
tian Brethren,  in  which  one  of  his  ancestors  had  been  promi- 
nent, but  of  this  he  was  not  a  member. 

It  is  not  without  its  bearing  upon  this  subject  that  the 
scrutiny  of  his  college  essays  reveals  no  tendency  to  dwell 
upon  the  subject  of  religion.  This  is  in  contrast  to  his  theses 
written  while  in  the  Latin  School.  That  his  earlier  boyish 
efforts  should  have  expressed  a  religious  faith  and  acquies- 
cence with  the  home  teaching,  in  emphatic  and  even  enthu- 
siastic form,  does  not  show,  indeed,  that  it  was  premature 
and  unreal,  but  does  show  that  a  profound  and  independent 
process  was  required  before  it  became  in  the  realest  sense 
his  own;  that  when  he  returned  to  the  formulas,  so  easily 
accepted  at  first,  it  would  be  with  a  consciousness  of  appro- 
priation, making  them  new,  as  if  unknown  before.  We  may 
then  only  surmise,  but  cannot  otherwise  measure,  the  work- 
ing of  his  spirit  at  this  moment.  There  were  depths  in  his 
nature  which  had  not  been  reached  by  the  ministrations  of 
his  pastor.  There  was  a  reconciliation  to  be  accomplished 
between  what  he  had  been  taught  by  others  and  what  he  was 
learning  by  himself. 

Certain  characteristics  of  Phillips  Brooks  stand  out  with 
prominence  in  his  college  days.  He  was  marked  by  a  pro- 
found reserve.  He  would  not  talk  of  himself  or  reveal  his 
inmost  thoughts.  He  had  many  friends;  he  was  greatly 
admired ;  his  favor  and  friendship  were  courted  by  many  as 
a  prize.  Something  of  the  feeling  toward  him  which  showed 
itself  in  later  years  in  the  extravagance  of  devotion  already 
existed.  But  to  know  him  intimately  was  impossible.  When 


.  15-19]     HARVARD  COLLEGE  91 

efforts  were  made  to  draw  him  out,  they  invariably  ended 
in  failure.  He  appeared  to  be  frankness  and  simplicity, 
but  the  inner  citadel  of  his  being  was  in  his  own  posses- 
sion. He  became  accustomed  to  these  efforts  to  induce  him 
to  talk  about  himself,  and  he  learned  to  parry  them,  to  throw 
the  inquirer  off  the  track,  or  to  turn  the  subject,  and  yet 
without  giving  offence.  Close  as  were  some  of  his  friends 
he  gave  his  full  confidence  to  no  one.  This  characteristic 
reserve,  which  remained  unbroken  throughout  his  life,  might 
seem  to  call  for  some  explanation.  It  was  the  symbol  at 
least  of  a  great  personality,  capable  of  standing  alone  and 
facing  the  world,  when  the  time  should  come,  in  independence 
and  freedom.  The  sense  of  the  sacredness  of  the  inner  life, 
to  be  known  only  to  God  in  its  fulness,  is  here  apparent,  as 
the  motive  of  his  being.  Again,  he  identified  himself  with 
his  thought  and  his  conviction  to  such  an  extent  that  he  did 
not  exist  apart  from  them.  He  was  really  giving  himself 
when  others  least  suspected  it,  for  it  was  done  in  impersonal 
ways  which  did  not  suggest  that  he  was  imparting  the  inner 
mystery  of  his  being.  There  are  some  men,  and  notably 
Shakespeare  as  the  type,  of  whom  but  little  or  nothing  is 
known,  because  they  have  given  themselves  in  their  work. 
That  constitutes  their  biography,  and  therein  lies  the  person- 
ality, which  we  lose,  if  we  try  to  catch  glimpses  of  another 
type  of  character,  where  the  man  appears  apart  from  the  pur- 
pose of  his  existence. 

Another  feature  of  Phillips  Brooks  was  his  power  of  obser- 
vation. This  was  a  gift  which  in  his  case  required  no  cul- 
tivation for  its  exercise.  He  saw  everything  which  fell  under 
his  gaze,  and,  like  an  artist  as  he  was,  he  saw  clearly  and 
distinctly.  Everything  made  its  distinct  impression,  to  be 
remembered  and  brooded  over,  till  it  should  reappear  in 
some  organic  relationship  when  the  opportunity  for  its  set- 
ting should  come.  He  was  receiving  impressions  when  he 
seemed  most  idle,  always  noting  his  impressions,  never  allow- 
ing the  slightest  detail  to  escape  him.  The  whole  world  of 
college  life  came  to  a  focus  in  his  mental  vision.  From  this 
gift,  and  the  exercise  of  it,  he  could  not  escape.  Such  was 


92  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1851-55 

the  impression  he  made  in  his  college  days  upon  those  who 
knew  him  best. 

But  in  all  this  there  was  an  unconscious  burden  of  an  ever- 
increasing  body  of  new  impressions  to  be  carried.  What  he 
learned  from  books  and  teachers  was  much,  and  was  most 
important,  but  it  was  a  small  part,  and  always  remained  a 
relatively  small  fraction,  compared  with  what  he  gained  from 
the  observation  of  life.  When  to  this  was  joined  his  power 
of  imagination,  the  burden  was  increased.  He  was  doomed 
by  this  gift  to  read  the  thought  and  enter  into  the  experience 
of  others,  easily  and  naturally,  it  would  almost  seem  by  no 
experience  of  his  own.  The  word  "  imagination  "  is  a  difficult 
word  to  define;  it  has  never  been  defined,  but  stands  vaguely 
to  do  duty  for  much  that  is  incapable  of  analysis.  In  its 
largest  sense  it  is  only  another  aspect  of  observation,  a  wider 
range  of  its  exercise  and  under  more  subtle,  intangible  condi- 
tions. There  is  the  knowledge  of  life  and  the  world  to  be 
gained  from  observation,  whether  of  men  or  books ;  there  is  the 
imagination,  enabling  one  to  enter  a  still  wider  experience. 
To  these  must  be  added  another  factor.  One  must  have  the 
world  already  in  his  own  soul,  seeing  much  through  anticipa- 
tion, or  he  remains  blind  with  seeing  eyes,  and  all  experience 
and  observation  become  dead  and  unproductive  labor.  "The 
knowledge  of  the  world  is  inborn  with  the  genuine  poet,  so 
that  he  needs  not  much  experience  or  varied  observation  to 
represent  it  adequately."  Such  was  the  substance  of  the  re- 
ply of  Goethe  to  Eckermann,  when  the  latter  was  admiring  in 
"Faust"  the  marks  of  a  careful  study  of  life  and  the  world. 
Coleridge  has  also  reached  the  same  conclusion :  — 

I  may  not  hope  from  outward  forms  to  win 

The  passion  and  the  life  whose  fountains  are  within. 

So  Phillips  Brooks  came  upon  the  scene,  with  a  rich  world 
of  his  own,  his  most  rare  endowment.  We  need  not  analyze 
it  or  seek  to  detect  its  source.  Something  surely  came  from 
his  long  line  of  descent,  as  if  his  ancestors  for  many  genera- 
tions had  been  preparing  for  his  work.  To  his  father  and 
his  mother  his  indebtedness  was  more  direct,  in  that  com- 
posite gift  which  united  the  love  of  the  world  that  now  is 


MT.  15-19]     HARVARD   COLLEGE  93 

with  a  deep  principle  of  spiritual  aspiration.  The  abounding 
wealth  of  this  endowment  enabled  him  to  read  the  outer 
world  and  the  human  soul  through  the  world  within  him,  so 
that  he  seemed  at  home  in  the  universe  without  effort  and 
knew  it  by  turning  his  gaze  within,  anticipating  what  others 
gain  by  effort  and  most  men  never  reach. 

The  manner  of  Phillips  Brooks  while  in  college  is  remem- 
bered as  quiet  and  undemonstrative,  not  particularly  notice- 
able in  any  way.  Among  his  friends  he  displayed  that  fine 
capacity  for  trifling  which  certainly  did  not  diminish  in  his 
later  years.  One  of  his  classmates,  Mr.  G.  C.  Sawyer, 
contributes  this  picture  from  memory :  — 

Phillips  Brooks,  though  a  quiet  man  in  college  days,  was  the 
brilliant  writer,  taking  prizes  for  English  essays  and  doing  the 
best  writing  at  all  times  in  the  various  societies  to  which  he  be- 
longed. At  the  same  time  it  was,  I  remember,  noticeable,  how 
outside  of  this  literary  vein  so  markedly  brilliant,  he  did  not, 
except  occasionally,  let  himself  out  in  conversation.  He  was 
playful,  even  boyish,  at  times  bright  and  witty  in  his  speech.  He 
distinctly  refused,  as  in  later  years,  to  be  drawn ;  and  I  call  to 
mind  one  time  when  an  importunate  classmate,  more  obtrusive 
than  considerate,  had  forced  him  to  a  long  walk  for  the  too  mani- 
fest purpose  of  drawing  him  into  literary  or  philosophic  converse, 
came  back  to  the  amusement  of  those  of  us  who  knew  Brooks 's 
moods  better,  quite  discomfited  at  having  got  from  him  little  but 
the  persiflage  which  on  occasions  he  understood  so  well  how  to 
use. 

Thus  early  in  life  he  was  distinguished  by  nothing  more  than 
by  a  dislike  of  show  and  of  putting  himself  or  his  opinions  for- 
ward. At  the  same  time  there  never  was  a  doubt  in  the  minds 
of  his  college  friends  or  his  instructors  that  underneath  lay  a  rich 
vein,  so  deep  down  that  it  promised  when  worked  to  be  developed 
into  products  of  marvellous  value.  Even  then  he  had,  I  may  say, 
his  worshippers,  who  foretold  great  things  of  him.  But  then,  as 
afterwards,  he  was  always  noticeable  for  putting  aside  anything 
that  looked  like  adulation  even  from  friends.  His  best  efforts 
seemed  to  come  easily  and  naturally. 

The  lines  of  Wordsworth  come  to  me  in  thinking  of  those 
youthful  days  when  with  his  great  powers  still  in  their  formative 
state,  he  went  in  and  out  among  us,  "moving  about  in  worlds  not 
realized." 


94  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1851-55 

How  well  I  remember  climbing  up  to  his  room  in  Stoughton, 
uppermost  story,  late  at  night,  and  finding  him  stretched  out  on 
a  sofa,  reading,  his  table  covered  with  books  which,  with  his 
omnivorous  capacity  of  rapidly  going  through,  he  had  taken  from 
the  library  when  preparing  a  Bowdoin  essay. 

When  he  graduated  at  Harvard  in  1855  he  was  but  nine- 
teen,  his  twentieth  birthday  being  six  months  distant.  He 
was  still  a  boy  in  feeling  and  manner.  How  he  then  appeared 
to  a  timid  Freshman,  looking  up  to  the  Seniors  with  too  great 
deference,  is  told  by  one  who  sat  at  the  same  table  with  him, 
observing  the  grace  of  his  ways  and  fascinated  by  the  won- 
derful charm  of  his  face.  He  would  take  the  opportunity  to 
push  dishes  to  the  end  of  the  table,  where  the  Freshmen  sat, 
who  would  otherwise  have  failed  to  get  their  rightful  share. 
He  took  one  of  the  Freshmen  aside  on  one  occasion,  and 
solemnly  urged  him  to  greater  self-assertion.  The  college, 
he  said  to  him,  really  belonged  to  the  Freshman  class,  who 
were  just  entering  and  had  their  college  life  before  them, 
rather  than  to  the  Seniors,  like  himself,  who  had  had  their 
day  and  were  about  to  leave.1  It  is  a  slight  incident,  but 
shows  the  inborn  tendency  to  get  at  the  reality  of  the  situa- 
tion, even  if  he  must  reverse  the  consecrated  judgments  of 
tradition. 

Whether  he  had  thought  of  a  profession  to  be  followed 
after  leaving  college,  or  how  far  he  may  have  bad  the  minis- 
try in  view,  is  uncertain.  One  of  his  classmates,  whose 
opinion  of  him  is  founded  upon  much  familiar  association, 
thinks  that  already  he  had  it  in  contemplation  as  a  possi- 
bility, and  was  not  surprised  when  he  learned  of  his  decision 
in  the  year  following  his  graduation.  But  there  was  one 
peculiar  obstacle  in  the  way,  not  to  mention  others,  which 
may  have  had  its  force  upon  his  mind.  In  those  days  the 
anti-slavery  sentiment  was  fast  ripening,  and  there  were 
many  who  were  ready  for  revolt  and  separation,  if  the  evil 
and  the  disgrace  could  not  be  otherwise  removed.  The 
great  leaders  of  the  anti-slavery  movement  were  inclined  to 
blame  the  churches  and  the  Christian  ministry  for  their 

1  This  reminiscence  is  contributed  by  Dr.  H.  P.  Walcott  of  Cambridge,  Haas. 


JET.  15-19]     HARVARD  COLLEGE  95 

indifference  to  the  cause  of  abolition,  even  if  they  were  not 
prepared  to  break  with  the  Church  altogether,  because  in 
that  critical  moment  she  came  not  to  the  help  of  the  Lord 
against  the  mighty.  With  this  feeling  Phillips  Brooks  had 
deep  sympathy.  He  has  remarked  that  the  attitude  of  the 
clergy  during  the  civil  war  had  set  back  the  church  to  such 
an  extent  that  the  evil  would  not  be  overcome  for  a  genera- 
tion. If  he  thought  of  the  ministry  as  his  calling  in  life,  it 
may  have  been  only  because  in  his  childhood  he  had  felt  its 
attractive  appeal  to  his  imagination.  He  was  now  aware  that 
the  prevailing  sentiment  among  young  men  of  his  age  was 
that  the  church  did  not  offer  the  prospect  of  the  highest  use- 
fulness or  the  widest  influence.  There  is  no  evidence  that 
any  decision  had  been  reached.  If  his  college  life  had  con- 
tributed no  other  direct  preparation  than  the  cultivation  of 
a  high  ideal  of  character,  the  manifestation  of  a  moral  pur- 
pose as  evidenced  by  a  life  unspotted  from  the  evil  that  is 
in  the  world,  it  had  done  the  most  important  work  in  fitting 
him  for  his  sacred  calling.  He  left  this  impression  on  the 
mind  of  his  classmate  Sawyer,  who,  when  reading  a  tribute 
recently  paid  by  Mr.  Gladstone  to  the  character  of  Arthur 
Hallam,  was  so  impressed  with  its  verisimilitude  in  the  case 
of  Phillips  Brooks  that  he  offered  it  as  a  contribution  to  this 
Memoir :  — 

Arthur  Hallam 's  life  at  Eton  was  certainly  a  very  happy  life. 
He  enjoyed  work,  he  enjoyed  society;  and  games  which  he  did 
not  enjoy  he  contentedly  left  aside.  His  temper  was  as  sweet  as 
his  manners  were  winning.  His  conduct  was  without  a  spot  or 
even  a  speck.  He  was  that  rare  and  blessed  creature,  anima 
naturaliter  Christiana. 

We  may  sum  up  the  years  of  his  college  life,  in  their  su- 
perficial aspects,  or  as  vouched  for  by  the  few  documents  that 
exist.  He  had  fitted  himself  for  teaching  in  certain  lines, 
especially  the  classics.  He  was  possessed  of  some  of  the 
tools  of  modern  learning,  a  reading  knowledge  of  German 
and  of  French.  He  had  acquired  the  taste  for  literature 
and  had  already  entered  into  its  spirit  for  himself,  reading 
primarily  to  admire  and  in  a  mood  of  deepest  reverence. 


96  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1851-55 

He  had  given  evidence  of  his  power,  impressing  his  contem- 
poraries, some  of  them  at  least,  with  the  conviction  of  his 
coming  greatness,  of  some  high  vocation  in  reserve  for  him. 
The  resultant  of  his  experience  had  been  to  make  him  a 
humanist,  of  an  exalted  type,  but  a  humanist  in  so  far  as  he 
recognized  the  sacredness  and  beauty  and  joy  of  the  secular 
life.  Those  tendencies  which  he  inherited  from  his  father 
were  at  this  time  uppermost.  But  there  was  another  inherit- 
ance from  his  mother  and  his  stricter  Puritan  ancestry,  the 
God-consciousness,  with  which  he  must  reckon  in  the  future. 
Signs  of  its  existence  and  presence  were  not  wanting;  its 
latent  force  may  have  deterred  him  from  too  easily  making 
the  formal  profession  of  the  Christian  life.  To  reconcile 
these  two  in  organic  divine  relationship  was  to  be  the  work 
of  his  life,  but  as  yet  his  mission  was  not  revealed  to  him. 
The  transitions  of  life  are  mysterious,  never  fully  accounted 
for  after  all  our  pains.  Phillips  Brooks  himself  must  be 
their  best  exponent  in  his  own  experience.  In  the  world  he 
carried  within  himself,  these  transitions  were  in  the  fore- 
ground. He  studied  himself  in  order  to  read  other  men. 
He  paused  at  these  halting-places  and  landmarks,  and  rever- 
ently sought  to  read  their  deeper  meaning.  In  a  sermon 
entitled  "The  Sacredness  of  Life,"  we  are  getting  glimpses 
of  his  autobiography.  "He  asked  life  of  Thee,  and  Thou 
gavest  him  a  long  life,  even  for  ever  and  ever,"  was  his  text. 

We,  too,  ask  God  for  life ;  every  struggle  for  self-support,  every 
shudder  at  the  thought  of  dying,  every  delight  in  existence,  is  a 
cry  for  life.  We  may  not  mean  it  for  a  prayer.  We  may  not 
torn  it  God  ward.  With  us,  as  we  utter  it,  it  may  be  a  mere  vague 
cry  into  the  darkness,  but  God  hears  it  as  a  cry  to  Him.  .  .  .  When 
we  first  take  the  life  which  He  gives  us,  we  do  not  know  what 
it  is.  Its  depth,  its  richness,  only -opens  to  us  gradually.  Only 
gradually  do  we  learn  that<God  has  given  to  us  not  merely  the 
power  of  present  being  and  present  enjoyment,  hut  that,  wrapped 
up  and  hidden  in  that,  He  has  given  us  the  power  of  thinking, 
feeling,  loving,  living,  in  such  deep  and  lofty  ways  that  we  may 
be  in  connection  with  the  great  continuous  unbroken  thoughts  and 
feelings  and  movements  of  the  universe.  The  life  which  He  has 
given  us  is  in  its  capacities  not  merely  a  thing  of  this  moment. 
It  is  a  part  of  the  life  of  the  universe.  It  is  eternal  life.  .  .  . 


MT.  15-19]     HARVARD   COLLEGE  97 

The  unconscious  infant  lives  in  a  mere  animal  existence,  and 
later,  when  the  strong  and  healthy  boy  begins  to  grow  conscious 
of  the  delight  of  life,  it  is  pure  life,  life  simply  as  a  fact,  life  not 
with  reference  to  the  deeper  powers  it  contains  or  the  far-off 
issues  with  which  it  has  to  do,  that  gives  him  such  hourly  delight 
in  living.  There  comes  back  to  many  of  us,  I  am  sure,  the  ring- 
ing verse  in  which  Browning  has  made  this  very  David,  when  he 
was  a  boy,  sing  in  the  presence  of  King  Saul  of  this  pure  con- 
sciousness of  joy  in  the  mere  fact  of  being  alive :  — 

Oh,  the  wild  joys  of  living  !  .  .  . 

How  good  is  man's  life,  the  mere  living,  how  fit  to  employ 

All  the  heart  and  the  soul  and  the  senses  forever  in  joy. 

In  his  placing  of  a  bright  unquestioning  boyhood  at  the  begin- 
ning of  every  man's  career,  does  it  not  seem  as  if  God  had  meant 
to  indicate  that  this  sense  of  life  as  a  blessing  in  itself  must  be 
the  basis  out  of  which  all  the  sense  of  the  special  blessedness  of 
special  events  in  life  must  grow,  as  if  He  meant  to  have  us  take 
life  as  a  whole  and  thank  Him  for  our  creation  before  we  looked 
deeper  and  saw  what  were  the  true  purposes  of  life  ?  But  by  and 
by  the  time  for  that  deeper  look  must  come.  .  .  .  The  thoughts 
and  anxieties  and  duties  of  a  man  come  crowding  up  into  the  life 
of  a  light-hearted  boy.  Care  for  things  to  which  he  was  once  all 
indifferent,  hopes  of  things  about  which  he  once  never  dreamed, 
ambitions  and  desires  of  influence  and  power,  the  delight  in  half- 
discovered  faculties,  and,  as  the  crown  of  all,  conscious  religion  or 
the  realized  relationship  with  God,  the  love  of  and  the  obedience 
to  Christ,  all  these  become  his  one  after  another.  .  .  .  See  him  at 
forty,  rich  in  all  these,  the  earnest,  thoughtful,  religious  man, 
full  of  associations  with  the  world  and  with  his  fellow  man  and 
God.  This  is  the  same  being  with  the  boy  who  played  in  simple 
health  and  thoughtlessness  thirty  years  ago.  How  have  all  these 
things  come  to  him  ?  Have  angels  come  down  one  by  one,  each 
bringing  one  of  these  new  gifts  and  put  them  one  by  one  into  his 
life  ?  Have  they  not  rather  opened  one  by  one  out  of  that  life 
itself,  called  out  by  God,  urged  out  by  the  half-blind  desire  to  be 
all  that  it  had  within  itself  the  capacity  of  being,  but  certainly 
coming  forth  out  of  the  very  substance  of  the  life  itself,  and  there- 
fore having  been  in  the  life  from  the  beginning  ?  There  never  was 
the  moment  when  the  hand  of  God  touched  Shakespeare's  lips  and 
bade  him  be  the  poet.  Never  a  time  when  as  a  new  endowment  a 
breath  from  Heaven  gave  to  St.  John  the  capacity  to  be  a  saint ; 
never  a  day  when  the  nature  of  Raphael  was  filled  with  genius. 
These  things  were  in  these  men  from  the  beginnings  of  their  lives.1 
1  Cf.  New  Startt  in  Life,  and  Other  Sermons,  pp.  108  ff.  It  was  written  in 


98  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1851-55 

When  he  was  writing  this  sermon,  in  1882,  he  was  surely 
contemplating  in  the  retrospect  his  own  early  manhood  and 
the  transition  to  it  from  his  youth.  He  makes  his  appeal  to 
the  young  men  before  him,  who  expect  to  become  religious 
some  day,  but  are  not  so  now.  What  can  they  do  now,  in 
anticipation  of  that  coming  change?  This  much  at  least, 
they  can  keep  their  hands  pure,  and  guard  their  sense  from 
the  least  taint  of  impurity.  In  this  way  they  will  be  faithful 
already  to  what  unguessed  deeper  life  God  has  in  his  inten- 
tions for  them.  "No  man  is  living  worthily  who  is  not  faith- 
ful already  to  the  future  life  which  he  does  not  yet  under- 
stand, but  which  he  knows  must  come.  Your  bodies  are  the 
temples  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  says  Paul.  Before  the  God  has 
accepted  the  temple,  the  temple  must  feel  the  influence  of  his 
promised  coming  and  keep  his  empty  courts  clean  for  him." 
He  admits  that  out  of  the  substance  of  our  sins,  the  mercy  of 
God  can  make  a  new  life.  In  every  man's  youth,  be  it  as 
pure  as  it  may,  there  will  be  enough  for  God  to  forgive.  But 
he  warns  them  of  the  years  of  dissipation  and  idleness,  which 
rest  like  an  incubus  on  men  when  they  make  their  first 
effort  to  be  Christians.  He  condemns  as  a  base  heresy  the 
notion  that  one  must  go  through  wickedness  to  get  goodness. 
It  was  the  summary  of  his  own  experience  when  he  said, 
"Keep  your  life  pure,  that  some  day  God  may  make  it 
holy." 

In  the  Order  of  Exercises  for  Commencement  Day,  July 
17,  1855,  the  name  of  Phillips  Brooks  appears  with  a  "  Dis- 
sertation —  Rabaut,  the  Huguenot  Preacher."  In  a  short 
paper,  occupying  some  five  minutes  in  the  delivery,  it  was 
not  possible  that  much  should  be  said,  nor  was  the  subject, 
unfamiliar  as  it  must  have  been  to  most  of  his  audience, 
calculated  to  evoke  the  eloquence  of  the  speaker.  The  con- 
ventionality of  the  occasion,  the  perfunctory  character  of  his 
performance  as  a  piece  of  college  routine  were  unfavorable 
circumstances  for  one  who  revelled  in  the  sense  of  freedom, 
demanding  naturalness  and  spontaneity  as  the  conditions  of 

1882,  «t.  47,  and  preached  in  Trinity  Church,  Barton,  March  19,  1882,  and  in 
St.  John's  Memorial  Chapel,  Cambridge,  February  24,  1884. 


MT.  15-19]     HARVARD   COLLEGE  99 

his  best  utterance.  Nor  does  he  seem  to  have  been  greatly 
interested  in  the  subject  assigned  to  him,  or  to  have  made  any 
special  study  for  its  treatment.  He  took  Babaut  as  a  specimen 
of  a  man,  living  under  the  power  of  a  great  belief.  What  he 
says  of  him  would  apply  with  equal  force  to  a  hundred  others 
that  might  easily  be  named.  He  simply  used  the  name  as  a 
peg  whereon  to  hang  his  own  reflections,  liabaut  was  strong 
because  he  had  a  belief  which  had  come  down  to  him  from 
the  past.  He  saw 

how  the  years  gone  by  were  made  for  him,  how  century  sent  down 
to  century  its  lessons  and  its  meanings,  and  how  he,  the  heir  of 
all  the  ages,  had  a  right  to  his  inheritance,  to  the  enlightened 
belief,  which  had  been  so  long  ripening  for  the  world.  This 
belief  filled  his  life  and  made  him  what  he  was.  It  taught  him 
to  grasp  the  present  and  to  see  the  good  of  his  own  wrecked  age. 
Through  this  belief  he  looked  into  the  future  and  became  a  pro- 
phet, to  warn  of  the  impending  ruin  for  which  a  corrupt  court  and 
faithless  philosophers  were  preparing.  Such  was  the  Pope  of  the 
Huguenots,  as  he  was  called,  le  pasteur  du  Desert. 

It  is,  then,  a  noble  thing  for  a  man  to  have  something  noble  to 
believe.  It  gives  him  strength.  It  makes  him  such  a  man  as 
Paul  Rabaut.  Without  his  genius,  without  his  great  mind,  any 
man  may  have  his  great  belief,  his  simple,  earnest  trust  in  what 
to  him  is  truth.  There  were  many  greater  minds  in  France,  but 
there  was  not  one  greater  man.  .  .  .  These  are  the  lives  that  teach 
the  world  to  live.  These  are  the  characters  that  stand  along  the 
street  of  daily  life,  looking  quietly  down  like  great  statues  upon 
the  business  and  the  bustle,  the  duties  and  the  works,  of  the  world 
which  has  come  after  them,  and  perpetuating  their  lesson  of  faith 
forever. 


CHAPTER  IV 

SEPTEMBER,  1855-OCTOBER,  1856 

HIS   EXPERIENCE  AS  USHER  IN  THE   BOSTON  LATIN   SCHOOL. 
RELIGIOUS  IMPRESSIONS.      EXTRACTS  FROM  HIS  NOTE-BOOK 

AFTER  graduating  from  college,  Phillips  Brooks  made  a 
successful  application  for  the  position  of  usher  (teacher)  in 
the  Boston  Latin  School,  and  began  his  work  there  in  Sep- 
tember, 1855,  not  yet  having  reached  his  twentieth  birthday. 
In  this  it  might  seem  as  though  he  were  only  taking  the  line 
of  least  resistance.  His  high  rank  as  a  classical  scholar  in 
college  made  such  an  opening  possible  without  further  pre- 
paration. He  would  also  be  at  once  in  possession  of  an 
income,  —  a  consideration  weighing  with  him  in  view  of  the 
younger  brothers  who  were  following,  whose  education  must 
have  been  a  strain  on  the  family  resources.  It  may  have 
been  a  matter  of  no  small  pride  that  he  would  be  able  so 
early  to  take  care  of  himself.  In  the  meantime,  also,  while 
gaining  experience,  he  would  be  able  to  look  about  him  and 
decide  at  his  leisure  upon  his  vocation  in  life. 

But  all  this,  while  it  may  have  some  truth,  is  hypothetical. 
The  actual  fact  seems  to  be  that  he  had  already  made  up  his 
mind  that  his  true  calling  was  to  be  a  teacher.  The  evidence 
that  this  was  his  decided  preference  will  appear  more  fully 
in  later  chapters.  Here,  at  least,  it  may  be  partly  antici- 
pated by  reference  to  a  remark  made  in  his  later  years,  when 
he  told  a  friend  that  the  scheme  of  life  he  had  laid  out  for 
himself  on  leaving  college  was  to  teach  for  a  while  in  the 
Latin  School,  in  order  to  gain  experience,  and  then  to  go 
abroad  for  study  in  order  to  fit  himself  for  a  professorship.1 

1  From  a  conversation  with  Rev.  James  P.  Franks  of  Salem,  a  rery  dear  and 
lifelong  friend. 


MT.  19-20]     THE   LATIN   SCHOOL  101 

It  must  be  assumed,  then,  that  he  had  determined  upon 
teaching  as  his  vocation  and  not  merely  as  a  temporary 
expedient.  The  decision  must  have  been  reached,  after  all 
the  deliberation  of  which  he  was  capable,  that  the  work  of 
a  teacher  was  the  highest  to  which  a  man  could  be  called ; 
that  it  was  the  simplest,  the  most  natural,  the  most  powerful 
mode  also  for  serving  one's  fellows,  and  of  exerting  a  deep 
and  enduring  influence,  —  a  most  real  and  genuine  calling. 
He  inherited  the  love  of  teaching  from  his  mother,  who 
was  the  first  and  most  successful  teacher  of  all  her  children, 
so  instilling  the  rudiments  of  truth  in  their  minds  that  they 
could  not  escape  its  permanent  influence.  His  mother  was 
born  to  be  a  teacher.  But  she  in  turn  inherited  from  her 
father  the  conviction  of  the  vast  influence  in  the  hands  of 
one  who  was  set  to  mould  the  mind  and  the  character  of  the 
rising  generation.  We  go  back  still  further,  to  her  grand- 
father, Judge  Phillips  of  Andover,  the  founder  of  the  acad- 
emy, or  Dr.  Phillips,  an  uncle,  the  founder  of  the  Exeter 
Academy.  The  love  of  teaching  ran  in  the  blood  of  the 
Phillips  family.  The  love  of  country  and  of  religion,  of 
pure  homes  and  high  morals,  the  preservation  in  its  integrity 
of  the  Puritan  mission  to  the  world,  all  these  concentrated 
as  so  many  motives  in  the  one  conviction  that  upon  the 
teacher  devolved  the  highest  duty  and  privilege,  —  the  main- 
tenance and  the  advancement  of  what  was  most  essential  and 
most  real  in  human  living.  There  was  something  of  the 
enthusiasm  in  New  England  in  the  days  when  it  was  planting 
its  schools  and  nourishing  the  vocation  of  the  teacher  that 
we  perceive  in  another  new  world  in  the  remote  past,  —  the 
age  of  Charlemagne,  when  men  were  first  awakening  to  the 
necessity  of  schools  and  of  teachers,  in  order  to  the  salvation 
of  government  and  society.  So  Phillips  Brooks  had  in  him 
the  making  of  an  Alcuin,  who  in  the  dawn  of  mediseval  civi- 
lization became  a  power  behind  the  throne  and  the  church, 
to  whom  all  subsequent  ages  acknowledge  their  debt  of  grati- 
tude. Like  Alcuin,  he  came  to  his  work  with  enthusiasm ; 
he  had,  as  we  say,  the  highest  ideal  of  what  an  educator 
should  be,  that  is,  the  highest  ideal  he  was  then  capable  of 


PHILLIPS  BROOKS         [1855-56 

conceiving.  Had  he  continued  in  this  calling,  he,  too,  might 
have  left  his  stamp  upon  methods  of  education,  for  his  ideal 
would  have  expanded  to  meet  the  advancing  claims  of  the 
higher  education  in  all  its  directions.  All  his  life  long  he 
had  the  deepest  sympathy  with  teachers  of  every  kind  and 
grade.  Nowhere  was  he  more  sought  and  valued  than  in 
schools  and  colleges  and  institutions  of  learning. 

But  now,  on  the  very  threshold  of  his  career,  he  met  with 
failure.  So  complete  it  seemed  and  so  final  that  we  can 
only  adequately  explain  the  situation  by  regarding  it  as  some 
providential  interference,  which  blocked  the  way  and  shut 
him  out  by  some  irreversible  decree  from  any  further  attempt 
to  pursue  his  favorite  vocation.  It  was  as  if  the  world  spirit 
had  already  fastened  upon  him  for  its  own,  and  resented  the 
possibility  of  his  loss  to  its  own  mysterious  purpose.  He  did 
not  see  it  at  the  time,  perhaps  he  never  fully  acquiesced  in 
the  verdict  of  the  power,  not  his  own,  that  makes  of  men 
what  they  do  not  contemplate,  that  carried  him  away  and 
bore  him  aloft,  but  first  took  him  into  the  wilderness  till  it 
had  been  shown  him  what  he  must  do. 

The  failure  of  Phillips  Brooks  as  a  teacher  in  the  Latin 
School  was  so  conspicuous,  and  he  was  so  widely  known  to 
a  large  circle  of  acquaintances  in  Boston,  so  great  things  also 
had  been  expected  of  him,  that  it  was  naturally  a  subject  of 
much  comment  at  the  time,  and  could  not  be  forgotten  in 
after  years.  At  first  it  had  been  an  occasion  of  commisera- 
tion. But  when  he  became  distinguished  as  the  unrivalled 
preacher  it  was  still  referred  to,  and  used  to  point  a  moral. 
Some  incidents  connected  with  it  have  occasionally  found 
their  way  into  print.  How  his  failure  was  regarded  at  the 
time  is  shown  in  the  following  remarks  of  Charles  Francis 
Adams,  Esq.,  now  the  president  of  the  Massachusetts  His- 
torical Society.  The  occasion  of  the  remarks  was  a  meeting 
of  the  Historical  Society  shortly  after  the  death  of  Phillips 
Brooks,  when  his  name  was  commemorated  as  one  of  its 
members :  — 

I  cannot  remember  the  time  when  I  did  not  know  Phillip 
Brooks.  He  was  my  second  cousin,  for  his  father  and  my  mother 


JET.  19-20]     THE   LATIN  SCHOOL  103 

were  cousins-german.  So,  at  almost  the  first  school  I  ever 
went  to,  —  a  little  dame  school  kept  in  a  small  wooden  house 
then  standing  on  Bedford  Street,  immediately  in  the  rear  of 
Church  Green,  as  the  enclosure  on  Summer  Street  was  called 
whereon  stood  the  New  South  meeting-house,  in  which  Dr.  Alex- 
ander Young  then  ministered,  —  in  this  antiquated  little  wooden 
edifice,  long  since  removed,  Phillips  Brooks  and  I  learned  our 
letters;  both  of  us,  I  take  it,  then  being  about  the  age  of  five  or 
six.  Some  eight  or  ten  years  later,  I  next  met  him  at  the  Boston 
Latin  School,  where  he  was  one  year  in  advance  of  me.  Later  on 
we  were  in  college  together ;  he  still  a  year  ahead,  graduating  in 
1855.  Of  him  at  Cambridge  I  retain  a  distinct  and  pleasant  re- 
collection, for  we  were  in  many  of  the  same  societies,  and  he  had 
already  evinced  that  peculiar  facility  of  written  expression  in 
which  afterwards  he  won  renown,  and  he  was  always  chosen  as 
a  matter  of  course  to  deliver  society  orations  and  read  literary 
papers.  He  belonged  to  a  class  singularly  prolific  in  young  men 
of  ability  and  interesting  character,  many  of  whom,  Barlow, 
Agassiz,  Lyman,  Dalton,  and,  above  all,  Brooks  himself,  sub- 
sequently achieved  distinction.  Unless  my  recollection  deceives 
me,  his  room-mate  was  Edward  Barry  Dalton,  with  whom  in 
after  years  at  the  headquarters  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  my 
relations  were  most  intimate,  —  a  man  who  stands  out  clear  and 
distinct  in  memory  as  one  than  whom  few  of  finer  or  nobler  char- 
acter were  encountered  at  a  period  and  amid  scenes  which  brought 
fine  and  noble  characters  rapidly  to  the  front.  And  now,  looking 
backwards  through  a  vista  of  nearly  forty  years,  that  two  such 
young  men  as  Edward  Barry  Dalton  and  Phillips  Brooks  should 
have  been  among  the  friends  of  my  youth  makes  me  think  better 
of  myself,  for,  after  all,  the  saying,  "Tell  me  who  your  friends 
are,  and  I  will  tell  you  who  you  are, "  has  truth  in  it.  Those 
were  indeed  golden,  precious  days, —  those  days  passed  in  the  June 
sunshine  of  the  college  grounds  with  young  men  who  seemed  in  no 
way  unusual  in  our  every-day  eyes,  but  who  in  fact  were  filled,  as 
the  result  soon  showed,  with  infinite  possibilities,  the  Bayards  and 
Sidneys  and  Bossuets  of  the  fast-coming  years,  —  days  I  failed, 
as  under  like  circumstances  we  all  of  us  always  fail,  to  appreciate 
at  the  time,  and  so  grasp  them  and  delight  in  them  as  they 
pass.  .  .  . 

After  Brooks  graduated,  he  became  one  of  the  ushers  at  the 
Boston  Latin  School,  then  presided  over  by  Francis  Gardner,  —  a 
man  whom  many  here  will  remember,  rough  and  harsh  in  exterior, 
but  not  without  a  kindly  side  for  those  whom  he  liked.  To  those 
he  did  not  like  a  harder  and  less  charitable  man  it  would  not  be 


104  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1855-56 

easy  to  find;  and  those  who  knew  both  Francis  Gardner  and 
Phillips  Brooks  would  feel  instinctively  at  once  that  Francis 
Gardner  could  never  have  taken  kindly  to  Phillips  Brooks.  The 
former  was  ingrained  a  schoolmaster,  the  latter  was  born  a 
preacher;  nor  in  saying  this  do  I  utter  an  ill  word  against  either 
calling. 

While  Phillips  Brooks  was  thus  earning  his  living  as  usher  at 
the  Boston  Latin  School  and  waiting  for  the  future  to  reveal  it- 
self to  him,  I  was  studying  law  in  the  office  of  Richard  H.  Dana, 
with  whom  Francis  Edward  Parker,  formerly,  as  was  Dana  also, 
a  member  of  this  society,  was  associated  as  partner.  Parker  was 
then  a  member  of  the  Boston  School  Committee,  and  as  such  head 
of  the  sub-committee  having  charge  of  the  Boston  Latin  School; 
at  which  he,  too,  in  his  earlier  post-graduate  days  liad  held  the 
position  of  usher.  I  soon  learned  that  Phillips  Brooks  was  in 
trouble.  The  master  complained  that  the  usher  had  in  him  no 
single  element  of  a  successful  school-teacher,  —  that  he  was  un- 
able to  maintain  order  among  the  boys  in  his  room,  and,  in  short, 
that  the  good  of  the  school  peremptorily  required  an  immediate 
change.  The  change  accordingly  was  decided  on,  and  Brooks's 
resignation  called  for.  But  the  young  man  selected  to  take  his 
place  was  not  immediately  available,  and  a  question  arose  as  to 
what  was  to  be  done  during  the  intervening  time,  —  a  period  per- 
haps of  two  or  three  weeks.  Moved,  probably,  more  by  the 
humor  of  the  thing  than  by  any  other  motive,  and  not  unwilling 
to  try  my  hand  in  a  new  field,  I  suggested  to  Mr.  Parker  that  I 
should  make  the  experiment  of  taking  charge  of  Brooks's  room 
until  the  new  master  came.  The  idea  struck  Parker  favorably, 
and  he  proposed  it  to  Mr.  Gardner.  Years  before  I  had  been  in 
Mr.  Gardner's  classes,  and  he  saw  fit  to  receive  the  suggestion  with 
favor,  though  at  first  somewhat  amused  by  it,  as  he  had  never 
looked  on  me  as  a  possible  instructor  of  youth ;  but  I  am  led  to 
believe  that  he  expressed  his  conclusions  in  terms  not  necessarily 
complimentary  to  either  Brooks  or  myself,  intimating  in  his  usual 
rough  way  that  any  change,  no  matter  what,  could  hardly  fail  to 
be  for  the  better.  He  thought,  however,  that  in  common  decency 
the  opportunity  should  be  given  Brooks  to  remain  until  his  suc- 
cessor appeared,  though  he  hardly  believed  he  would  do  so.  But 
in  this  Master  Gardner  was  mistaken.  Phillips  Brooks,  though 
both  discouraged  and  cut  to  the  quick  by  his  failure,  did  wish  to 
remain  until  his  successor  appeared ;  and  as  my  services  were  thus 
dispensed  with,  I  never  occupied  an  usher's  chair. 

Now  comes  the  point  of  my  reminiscence.     Shortly  after  this, 
as  I  was  told  at  the  time  and  have  since  seen  no  occasion  to  dis- 


MT.  19-20]    THE   LATIN   SCHOOL  105 

believe,  Phillips  Brooks  —  humiliated,  discouraged,  utterly  broken 
down,  indeed,  by  his  complete  failure  at  the  threshold  of  life,  not 
seeing  well  or  at  all  in  what  direction  to  turn  or  to  apply  his 
hand  —  went  despondently  to  some  man  in  his  family  acquaint- 
ance of  assured  success,  and  in  the  depth  of  his  disappointment 
and  mortification  asked  him  for  advice,  —  could  he  suggest  any 
way  in  which  it  would  be  possible  for  him,  the  recent  graduate 
arid  the  future  great  preacher,  to  earn  a  living!  .  .  . 

This  experience  of  Phillips  Brooks,  the  memory  of  which  I  do 
not  doubt  he  carried  with  him  to  the  end,  —  and  he,  too,  I  fancy, 
like  myself,  though  for  other  reasons,  felt  a  sense  of  satisfaction, 
approaching  relief,  when  that  gloomy,  ugly  Latin  School  edifice 
in  Bedford  Street  was  levelled  with  the  ground  and  a  thorough- 
fare made  to  occupy  the  site  where  it  stood,  for  it  recalled  no 
pleasant  memories  to  either  of  us,  —  that  early,  mortifying  Latin 
School  experience,  I  say,  Phillips  Brooks  doubtless  carried  freshly 
with  him  to  the  grave. 

In  order  to  understand  more  clearly  this  critical  incident 
in  the  life  of  Phillips  Brooks,  and  in  order  to  draw  any 
moral  from  it,  if  there  is  any  to  be  drawn,  it  seems  fitting 
that  the  story  should  be  fully  told,  and  the  nature  and  the 
causes  of  his  failure  explained.  When  he  began  to  teach 
in  the  Latin  School,  he  had  the  good  fortune  of  being  assigned 
the  charge  of  one  of  the  younger  classes.  But  soon  after  a 
change  was  made  and  the  Third  Class  in  the  school  was  placed 
in  his  care.  This  class  had  already  made  for  itself  a  reputa- 
tion for  mischief  and  turbulence.  Not  that  they  were  worse 
boys  than  those  in  the  other  classes,  but  there  had  entered 
into  the  life  of  the  class  as  a  whole  a  certain  evil  spirit  of 
disorder  which  for  some  reason  had  failed  to  be  exorcised  in 
its  initial  stages.  This  evil  had  increased  until  it  led  the 
class  captive  as  by  some  mood  which  it  could  not  control. 
Before  Phillips  Brooks  took  charge  of  it,  three  of  its  teachers 
had  been  routed  and  obliged  to  leave.  The  teacher  who  fol- 
lowed Brooks,  to  fill  out  the  vacancy  for  the  year,  confessed 
himself  so  wearied  by  the  frequent  resort  to  corporal  punish- 
ment as  a  means  to  order  that  he  was  obliged  to  betake  him- 
self to  the  White  Mountains  for  the  summer  in  order  to 
recuperate  his  strength.  To  this  class,  then,  Phillips  Brooks 
was  appointed,  with  no  experience  in  dealing  with  boys, 


io6  PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [1855-56 

hardly  more  than  a  boy  himself,  with  no  backing  from  the 
head  master,  and  left  to  fight  his  battles  alone.  A  set  of 
boys  which  had  already  routed  three  of  its  foes,  as  teachers 
were  by  them  regarded,  was  too  accomplished  in  the  forms  of 
mischief,  too  versatile  in  expedients,  for  any  amount  of  tact 
on  the  part  of  the  new  teacher,  even  had  he  possessed  that 
quality.  It  did  not  take  them  long  to  find  out  that  they  had 
another  victim  at  their  mercy. 

We  can  imagine  the  young  teacher  in  his  trying  position. 
He  had  grown  up  without  himself  requiring  severe  discipline 
as  an  incentive  to  duty.  Through  college  years,  spontaneity 
and  self -direction  had  been  his  motives.  He  was  a  fine  clas- 
sical scholar,  interested  in  his  work  of  imparting  what  he 
knew,  and  presupposing  an  interest  in  his  pupils.  Perhaps, 
too,  his  sense  of  humor,  his  quick  appreciation  of  foolery  in 
all  its  forms,  was  an  obstacle  in  the  existing  situation.  He 
was  embarrassed  by  shyness,  which  is  the  accompaniment  of 
genius  before  its  powers  have  been  tested.  He  had  one  per- 
sonal  peculiarity,  an  element  receiving  full  consideration  in 
the  minds  of  his  boys,  who  were  not  sure  how  much  he  could 
see.  The  familiar  eyeglasses  were  not  then  so  common  as 
they  are  now.  These  were  some  of  the  circumstances  making 
the  case  a  hopeless  one  from  the  first. 

We  may  now  go  more  closely  into  the  situation.  The 
forms  of  mischief  were  varied  and  exhibited  great  ingenuity. 
The  thermometer,  which  hung  in  the  classroom,  was  plugged 
with  snow,  and  when  the  mercury  had  descended  to  freezing 
point,  the  boys  began  to  complain  of  the  cold,  and  the  room, 
already  warm,  was  made  insufferable  by  the  addition  of  fuel 
thrown  upon  the  fire.  Then  the  windows  were  thrown  open 
and  the  opposite  process  begun,  till  the  thermometer,  rein- 
forced with  snow,  called  for  a  reversal  of  tactics.  One  of 
the  boys,  a  fair-haired,  innocent-looking  youth,  watching  his 
opportunity,  threw  a  handful  of  shot  in  the  teacher's  face, 
but  when  the  teacher  lifted  his  eyes  from  his  book  he  saw 
only  the  raised  hand  which  had  thrown  the  shot,  in  the 
accustomed  attitude  of  one  who  wished  to  ask  some  question 
about  his  studies.  Another  of  the  boys  purchased  matches 


AT.  19-20]    THE   LATIN   SCHOOL  107 

of  the  kind  which  snapped  when  stepped  upon.  These  were 
prepared  by  cutting  off  the  heads,  and  distributed  upon  the 
floor,  and  even  placed  under  the  teacher's  desk,  so  that  no 
one  could  move  without  eliciting  an  explosion.  When  the 
teacher  threatened  punishment  to  the  next  boy  that  stepped 
upon  a  match,  it  was  unfortunate  that  the  next  explosion 
went  off  under  his  own  desk,  as  the  boys  were  not  slow  in 
reminding  him,  when  he  undertook  to  carry  out  his  threat. 
It  happened  one  morning  that  as  he  looked  up,  after  saying 
the  opening  prayer,  he  saw  the  boys  furnished  with  eyeglasses 
made  from  strips  of  tin  gathered  from  the  waste  barrel  of  a 
neighboring  tinshop.  He  was  locked  into  the  room  with  his 
class,  and  was  obliged  to  let  a  boy  down  from  the  window  to 
the  ground  to  clean  out  from  the  keyhole  the  obstructions 
with  which  it  had  been  plugged. 

Under  the'se  circumstances,  he  might  have  devoted  himself 
to  the  work  of  a  detective;  possibly  it  was  his  duty  to  have 
done  so,  not  resting  until  he  had  unearthed  the  offender  and 
administered  condign  punishment.  There  were  teachers  who 
would  have  done  this  with  success,  for  it  was  not  impossible. 
In  another  classroom  a  marble  had  been  thrown  at  the 
teacher's  head,  which  struck  the  blackboard  behind  him. 
The  teacher  at  once  marked  the  spot  where  the  marble  struck, 
and  the  spot  where  its  motion  stopped.  The  calculation  of 
the  angle  of  incidence  and  reflection  then  traced  the  marble 
to  the  point  where  it  started.  We  can  hardly  imagine  Phil- 
lips Brooks  engaged  in  such  an  operation;  yet  he  might 
have  pursued  an  investigation  into  the  source  whence  the 
matches  had  been  obtained,  giving  his  days  to  the  inquiry 
until  the  problem  was  solved. 

One  is  surprised  that  things  like  these  should  have  been 
encountered  in  the  Boston  Latin  School.  Since  those  days 
there  has  been  a  change  in  the  methods  of  teaching,  in  the 
relative  attitudes,  too,  of  teacher  and  pupil.  A  teacher  like 
Mr.  Gardner,  once  so  indispensable,  is  no  longer  the  ideal  of 
an  educator  of  boys.  Mr.  Gardner  came  to  fulfil  the  need  of 
his  time.  It  was  in  Boston  as  elsewhere  in  the  rural  dis- 
tricts of  New  England :  the  teacher  was  regarded  as  an  hcredi- 


io8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1855-56 

tarv  enemy.  Under  these  conditions,  teachers  great  and 
successful  in  their  way  were  developed.  In  the  backwoods 
of  the  remote  country  we  read  of  a  teacher  who  had  acquired 
s  formidable  reputation  as  an  invincible  disciplinarian  for 
turbulent  district  schools.  He  was  sent  for,  far  and  near,  to 
take  up  the  work  of  those  who  had  failed.  There  was  no 
school  where  at  least  he  did  not  succeed  in  maintaining  order. 
That  was  about  all  that  he  attempted,  and  by  long  study  and 
much  practice  he  had  become  an  adept.  His  method  was  a 
simple  one.  When  he  entered  the  schoolroom  for  the  first 
time,  he  was  on  the  alert,  watching  for  the  slightest  symptom 
by  which  boys  unconsciously  reveal  themselves.  But  if  symp- 
toms were  wanting  he  did  not  wait  for  an  overt  act.  Fasten- 
ing on  one  of  the  older  boys,  whom  he  thought  competent  to 
be  a  ringleader,  he  himself  created  an  opportunity  which 
would  beget  ill  temper  and  resistance.  Then,  as  the  phrase 
is,  he  went  for  him,  taking  the  boy  at  a  disadvantage,  floor- 
ing him,  giving,  as  he  always  admitted,  such  a  well-directed 
blow  as  to  make  him  unconscious.  This  done,  he  commanded 
the  other  boys  to  carry  him  from  the  room,  and  from  that 
time  there  was  no  further  question  of  his  ascendency.  It 
was  brutal,  perhaps,  but  it  maintained  order,  which  is  the 
first  preliminary  of  education. 

Mr.  Gardner  also  was  a  man  of  experience  in  dealing 
with  turbulent  boys.  To  his  mind,  there  were  men  who 
could  manage  them  and  men  who  could  not.  For  himself, 
he  never  failed.  He  never  was  so  absorbed  in  mental  pro- 
cesses that  his  faculties  were  not  on  the  alert  in  view  of  pos- 
sibilities of  turbulence  and  revolt.  Instances  of  his  success- 
ful dealing  with  emergencies  are  remembered  by  his  pupils. 
On  one  occasion,  a  boy  who  had  been  summoned  to  his  desk 
to  receive  corporal  punishment  snatched  the  rod  from  his 
hand  as  it  was  about  to  descend,  and  throwing  it  upon  the 
floor,  started  to  leave  the  room.  Mr.  Gardner  suffered  the 
disadvantage  of  losing  a  moment  in  stooping  to  pick  up 
the  rod,  then  rushed  for  the  offender,  whom  he  pinned  in  the 
doorway  just  in  time,  and  then  and  there  administered  the 
full  discipline  which  outraged  justice  demanded.  Mr.  Gard- 


MT.  19-20]    THE  LATIN   SCHOOL  109 

ner  was  also  an  enthusiastic  athlete,  surpassing  in  this  respect 
his  pupils,  keeping  his  body  flexible  and  in  condition  to 
compete  with  any  antagonist.  Phillips  Brooks  had  neglected 
this  training,  so  indispensable  at  that  time  for  a  successful 
teacher.  Mr.  Gardner  had  the  Spartan  temperament  and 
the  Spartan  theory  of  life.  The  work  of  a  teacher  from  his 
point  of  view  included  the  inevitable  conflict.  He  educated 
his  boys  in  manliness  and  courage,  for  he  himself  was  an 
example.  He  was  a  good  teacher  also  in  other  ways.  But 
it  ought  to  be  said  that  no  experienced  or  successful  educator 
in  our  own  day  would  have  placed  an  inexperienced  young 
man  like  Phillips  Brooks  in  such  a  position.  It  even  appears 
to  us  like  an  act  of  cruelty  or  injustice.  As  the  head  master 
it  was  his  duty  to  have  brought  the  turbulent  Third  Class 
to  order  and  submission.  But  he  did  not  so  regard  it.  A 
teacher,  to  his  mind,  was  born,  not  made.  As  Phillips 
Brooks  had  felt  called  to  be  a  teacher,  let  him  take  the 
vacant  place  and  see  what  he  could  make  of  it.  It  might  be 
even  an  act  of  kindness  to  set  him  at  a  point  of  danger  in 
order  to  develop  his  power  or  to  test  his  strength.  It  was 
like  giving  him  an  opportunity  where  he  might  win  high 
reputation. 

Such  in  substance  is  the  episode  in  the  life  of  Phillips 
Brooks,  so  far  as  external  appearances  go.  He  had  in  him 
the  making  of  a  great  teacher.  But  he  was  also  at  a  great 
disadvantage  from  his  youth,  from  his  lack  of  experience, 
and  placed  in  a  position  where  his  own  inexperience  was 
confronted  by  the  experience  of  a  class  of  boys  who  studied 
him  as  so  much  material  for  the  application  of  their  trained 
and  versatile  wits.  From  the  first,  the  normal  relationship 
between  teacher  and  pupils  did  not  exist.  Nor  did  he  have 
the  backing  of  the  head  master,  as  he  ought  to  have  had. 
He  was  left  to  stand  alone.  Had  he  been  older,  had  he  stood 
at  the  head  of  the  school,  feeling  the  full  sense  of  responsi- 
bility, could  he  have  instituted  his  own  methods  of  governing 
and  teaching,  he  might  have  reversed  the  situation.  But  on 
Mr.  Gardner's  methods  he  was  doomed  to  failure.  The  case 
was  an  abnormal  one,  anomalous,  and  yielding  no  other 


i  io  PHILLIPS  BROOKS         [1855-56 

moral  than  this,  that  some  "daemonic  "  influence,  as  Goethe 
called  it,  dominated  the  crisis.  It  is  well  that  the  story 
should  have  been  told,  if  only  to  reach  this  conclusion.  The 
boys  were  at  fault,  but  not  wholly  so;  for  through  some 
inadvertence,  at  some  moment  in  their  career,  the  spirit  of 
mischief  had  not  been  exorcised  when  it  was  still  in  its 
infancy.  They  became  the  victims  of  some  one's  incompe- 
tency.  But  here  our  investigation  must  stop.  Long  since 
they  have  repented  of  their  mischief,  as  the  teacher  after- 
wards freely  owned  that  he  had  forgiven  them.  Phillips 
Brooks  also  made  mistakes.  He  punished  one  boy  who  had 
committed  no  fault.  When  he  had  become  Bishop  of  Massa- 
chusetts, as  he  was  moving  in  his  majestic  dignity  across 
Boston  Common,  he  met  this  boy  in  his  path,  then  a  mature 
man  occupying  a  post  of  trust  and  influence.  Neither  of 
them  had  forgotten  the  incident.  Looking  down  upon  him 
the  Bishop  made  a  certain  appeal  for  forgiveness:  uTell  me 
now,"  he  said,  "that  I  did  not  make  a  mistake  by  punishing 
the  wrong  boy?"  "Yes,  you  did  make  a  mistake,  you 
punished  the  wrong  boy,"  was  the  answer;  "but  so  many 
punishments  I  have  lost,  which  I  deserved,  that  I  ought  to 
be  grateful  for  that  one,  which  I  did  not  deserve." 

One  more  word  should  be  said  for  Mr.  Gardner.  He  was 
inwardly  disappointed  and  grieved  over  the  failure.  He 
liked  Phillips  Brooks  and  appreciated  him.  When  he  told 
him  that  a  man  who  had  failed  in  teaching  could  not  succeed 
in  any  other  line,  that  did  not  mean  necessarily  that  he  was 
trying  to  make  the  failure  worse  than  it  was.  It  may  have 
been  his  peculiar  way  of  showing  sympathy,  his  way  of  in- 
dicating how  deeply  he  deplored  the  catastrophe.  As  for 
Phillips  Brooks,  he  took  away  with  him  from  his  experience 
a  wounded  spirit.  The  misery  of  it  all  was  that  it  could  not 
then  be  explained  or  interpreted.  The  new  day  in  education 
was  only  dawning;  in  the  light  of  the  old  regime  he  must 
be  judged.  But  he  harbored  no  grudge  against  Mr.  Gardner. 
His  time  came  at  last  to  review  the  situation  under  auspices 
most  favorable  and  impressive.  When,  in  1885,  he  was 
appointed  to  make  the  address  on  the  occasion  of  the  two 


JET.  19-20]     THE  LATIN   SCHOOL  in 

hundred  and  fiftieth  anniversary  of  the  Boston  Latin  School, 
he  reviewed  at  length  its  history,  and  its  successive  masters 
came  up  for  study  and  for  judgment.  Then  he  paid  his 
tribute  to  Master  Gardner :  — 

Think  of  him,  O  my  fellow  students,  as  he  sat  upon  his  plat- 
form or  moved  about  the  hall  among  our  desks  thirty  years  ago ! 
Tall,  gaunt,  muscular,  uncouth  in  body;  quaint,  sinewy,  severe 
in  thought  and  speech;  impressing  any  boy  with  the  strong  sense 
of  vigor,  now  lovely,  now  hateful,  but  never  for  a  moment  tame, 
or  dull,  or  false ;  indignant,  passionate,  an  athlete,  both  in  mind 
and  body  —  think  what  an  interesting  mixture  of  opposites  he 
was !  He  was  proud  of  himself,  his  school,  his  city,  and  his  times ; 
yet  no  man  saw  more  clearly  the  faults  of  each,  or  was  more  dis- 
contented with  them  all.  He  was  one  of  the  frankest  of  men, 
and  yet  one  of  the  most  reserved.  He  was  the  most  patient 
mortal  and  the  most  impatient.  He  was  one  of  the  most  earnest 
of  men,  and  yet  nobody,  probably  not  even  himself,  knew  his 
positive  belief  upon  any  of  the  deepest  themes.  He  was  almost 
a  sentimentalist  with  one  swing  of  the  pendulum,  and  almost 
a  cynic  with  the  next.  There  was  sympathy,  not  unmixed  with 
mockery  in  his  grim  smile.  He  clung  with  almost  obstinate  con- 
servatism to  the  old  standards  of  education,  while  he  defied  the 
conventionalities  of  ordinary  life  with  every  movement  of  his  rest- 
less frame.  Can  you  not  see  him  as  we  spoke  our  pieces  on  the 
stage,  bored  ourselves  and  boring  our  youthful  audiences,  and  no 
doubt  boring  him,  with  the  unreality  of  the  whole  preposterous 
performance?  Can  you  not  see  him  in  his  restlessness  taking 
advantage  of  the  occasion  to  climb  and  dust  off  the  pallid  bust  of 
Pallas,  which  stood  over  the  schoolroom  door,  and  thundering 
down  from  his  ladder  some  furious  correction  which  for  an  instant 
broke  the  cloud  of  sham  and  sent  a  lightning  flash  of  reality  into 
the  dreary  speech  ?  Can  you  not  hear  him  as  he  swept  the  gram- 
mar with  its  tinkling  lists  aside  for  an  hour,  and  very  possibly 
with  a  blackboard  illustration  enforced  some  point  of  fundamental 
morals  in  a  way  his  students  never  could  forget?  Can  you  not 
feel  his  proverbs  and  his  phrases,  each  hard  as  iron  with  perpetual 
use,  come  pelting  across  the  hall,  finding  the  weak  spot  in  your 
self-complacency,  and  making  it  sensitive  and  humble  ever  since? 

He  was  a  narrow  man  in  the  intensity  with  which  he  thought 
of  his  profession.  I  heard  him  say  once  that  he  never  knew  a 
man  who  had  failed  as  a  schoolmaster  to  succeed  in  any  other  oc- 
cupation. And  yet  he  was  a  broad  man  in  his  idea  of  the  range 
which  he  conceived  that  his  teaching  ought  to  cover.  He  made 


ua  PHILLIPS  BROOKS         [1855-56 

the  shabby  old  schoolhouse  to  blossom  with  the  first  suggestions  of 
the  artistic  side  of  classical  study,  with  busts  and  pictures,  with 
photographs  and  casts ;  and  hosts  of  men  who  have  forgotten  every 
grammar  rule,  and  cannot  tell  an  ablative  from  an  accusative,  nor 
scan  a  verse  of  Virgil,  nor  conjugate  the  least  irregular  or  regular 
verbs  to-day,  still  feel,  while  all  these  flimsy  superstructures  of 
their  study  have  vanished  like  the  architecture  of  a  dream,  the 
solid  moral  basis  of  respect  for  work  and  honor,  for  pure  truth- 
fulness, which  he  put  under  it  all,  still  lying  sound  and  deep  and 
undecayed. 

The  life  of  Francis  Gardner  was  not  without  a  certain  look  of 
pathos,  even  in  the  eyes  of  his  light-hearted  pupils.  As  we 
looked  back  upon  it  after  we  had  left  him,  we  always  thought  of 
it  as  sad.  That  color  of  pain  and  disappointment  grew  deeper  in 
it  as  it  approached  its  end.  It  was  no  smug,  smooth,  rounded 
satisfactory  career.  It  was  full  of  vehemence  and  contradiction 
and  disturbance.  He  was  not  always  easy  for  the  boys  to  get 
along  with.  Probably  it  was  not  always  easy  for  him  to  get 
along  with  himself.  But  it  has  left  a  strength  of  truth  and  honor 
and  devoted  manliness  which  will  always  be  a  treasure  in  the 
school  he  loved.  The  very  confusion  and  struggle  always  after 
something  greater  than  itself  make  it  a  true  typical  life  of  the 
century  in  which  he  lived.  We  look  into  his  stormy  face  upon 
our  walls,  and  bid  him  at  last  rest  in  peace. 

A  series  of  letters  has  been  preserved,  written  by  Phillips 
Brooks  to  Mr.  George  C.  Sawyer,  who  had  become  a  teacher 
in  the  Exeter  Phillips  Academy,  which  cover  the  period  dur- 
ing which  he  was  an  usher  in  the  Latin  School.  In  these  let- 
ters, where  we  touch  his  correspondence  for  the  first  time,  we 
have  his  account,  such  at  least  as  he  chose  to  give,  of  his 
experience.  When  the  correspondence  opens  he  had  been 
teaching  only  a  few  weeks,  and  found  the  task  agreeable. 

Sunday,  September  23,  1855. 

DEAR  TOPEY,  —  I  got  your  kind  letter  in  the  course  of  time, 
though  as  it  was  directed  merely  to  my  humble  self,  who,  though 
an  A.  B.,  am  not  very  generally  known  among  the  P.  O.  officials 
of  our  city,  I  did  not  hear  of  it  till  it  had  been  lying  almost  a 
week  in  the  office.  Please  address  all  future  favors  to  the  care 
of  Charles  Brooks  &  Co.,  and  I  shall  not  have  to  wait  so  long  for 
the  feast  of  wisdom.  I  heard  some  time  since  from  Barlow  of 
the  success  of  your  application,  and  beg  now  to  offer  my  late  con- 
gratulations upon  the  budding  glories  of  your  tutorship.  We 


JET.  19-20]     THE  LATIN   SCHOOL  113 

shall  soon  see  our  whole  country  waking  up  to  a  vast  improvement 
in  the  classical  and  moral  education  of  its  youth.  Barlow  has 
gone  to  New  York,  and  I  heard  very  unofficially  yesterday  that  he 
had  got  some  most  excellent  situation  there.  I  meet  still  wander- 
ing members  of  the  great  class  roaming  up  and  down  the  streets, 
trying  to  look  as  if  they  were  hard  at  work,  and  as  if  they  liked 
it  too.  Sunborn  I  saw  a  week  ago  at  the  "club,"  and  this 
morning  I  had  a  distant  view  of  him  returning  from  Church  with 
the  great  Theodore.  .  .  .  You  must  prepare  to  see  a  great 
change  in  the  youth  of  our  city  the  next  time  you  come  to  Boston. 
There  is  more  intelligence  and  brilliance  in  their  faces,  and  if  you 
meet  a  Latin  School  boy  you  will  at  once  know  him  for  one  who 
has  had  the  best  instructors,  and  who  knows  ever  so  much,  prob- 
ably a  good  deal  more  than  his  master,  for  some  of  them  are 
pretty  sharp  and  have  come  very  near  sticking  me  very  often  on 
strange  rules  in  out-of-the-way  corners  of  the  grammar  of  whose 
existence  I  was  profoundly  ignorant.  So  that  sometimes  I  have 
to  fall  back  on  my  authority  and  shut  their  mouths  with  the  ipse 
dixit  of  a  schoolmaster. 

But  seriously,  I  like  the  life.  Is  n't  there  a  sort  of  satisfaction 
and  pleasure  in  knowing  that  you  are  doing,  or  at  least  have  the 
chance  of  doing  something.  At  Cambridge  it  was  all  very  well, 
but  we  had  only  ourselves  to  work  on.  Here  we  have  some 
twenty,  thirty,  or  forty  on  whom  we  can  bring  to  bear  the  author- 
ity and  influence  of  a  superior  position  and  see  what  we  can  make 
out  of  them,  and  watch  all  their  workings.  You  think  this  is  a 
funny  way  for  me  to  talk,  but  I  really  think  so. 

So  late  as  the  20th  of  October  he  found  his  life  in  the 
Latin  School  a  pleasant  one.  The  troubles  had  not  yet 
begun. 

BOSTON,  Saturday  evening,  October  20,  1855. 

DEAR  TOP,  —  I  must  beg  your  forgiveness  for  not  having  an- 
swered before  now  your  kind  letter  which  I  received  a  good  while 
ago.  I  have  been  busy  a  great  deal  of  the  time,  and  when  not 
busy  old  habits  have  come  back  again  and  made  me  very  lazy. 
Everything  is  working  on  in  the  quiet,  regular  way  in  which  it  has 
settled  for  the  winter.  The  wheels  of  school-keeping  are  getting 
better  greased  and  running  smoother  every  day.  Last  Tuesday 
was  Exhibition  at  Cambridge,  and  I  went  out  with  my  heart  full 
of  class  feeling  to  greet  any  or  all  of  the  class  of  '55,  Aristocrat 
or  Democrat,  with  the  proper  degree  of  affectionate  ardor.  There 

1  The  Rev.  Theodore  Parker,  then  preaching  at  Boston  Music  Hall. 


n4  PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [1855-56 

were  bat  few,  however,  on  whom  to  lavish  this  feeling.  It  wo* 
the  meanest  exhibition  I  ever  saw.  The  "Advertiser  "  of  Wednes- 
day said  as  much.  was  there  with  his  head  full  of  med- 
icine, dissecting,  amputation,  and  all  sorts  of  horrid  things. 
Speaking  of  medicine,  Dalton  was  here  the  other  day  on  his  way 
to  New  York,  whither  he  goes  to  study  the  healing  art  with  his 
brother,  who  is  a  professor  there.  I  received  this  afternoon  a 
very  unexpected  note  from  Dr.  Walker,  anxiously  inquiring  whether 
I  ever  gave  him  a  copy  of  my  Commencement  part,  begging,  if  I 
did  not,  to  do  so  at  once.  He  says  he  can  find  all  but  mine. 
The  reason  probably  is  that  I  never  took  the  trouble  to  copy  it. 
I  shall  have  to  revive  unpleasant  associations  again.  .  .  . 

I  was  perfectly  terrified  at  the  terrible  assault  last  Tuesday 
made  by on  my  inoffensive  self.  Ghosts  of  old  unpaid  as- 
sessments and  long  since  eaten  and  digested  socials  were  digged 
out  to  terrify  and  haunt  me,  till  I  paid  some  marvellous  sums 
which  alone  could  quiet  their  ravenous  rage. 

I  did  honestly  mean  when  I  began  this  letter  to  be  serious  and 
imposing,  moral  and  perhaps  metaphysical  before  I  was  done. 
You  see  what  has  come  of  it.  Sic  transit  the  glory  of  golden  in- 
tentions, one  more  paving-stone  for  hell.  I  am  doing  my  share  to 
keep  the  infernal  streets  in  good  repair.  I  hope  you  have  better 
reason  to  be  satisfied  with  yourself  than  I  have  with  your  humble 
servant  and  true  friend, 

PHILLIPS  BROOKS. 

The  troubles  in  the  Latin  School  have  now  begun,  as  will 
be  seen  by  the  following  letter.  The  young  teacher  gives 
his  opinion  of  the  Third  Class  in  very  emphatic  language : 
"They  are  the  most  disagreeable  set  of  creatures  without 
exception  that  I  have  ever  met  with."  The  letter  closes 
with  a  touch  of  despondency. 

BOSTON,  Sunday  evening,  December  9,  1855. 

DEAR  TOP,  —  I  find  in  my  desk  a  letter  from  you  dated  just  a 
month  ago  to-day,  and  I  think  that  it  is  about  time  that  it  was 
answered.  I  would  have  written  before,  but  I  supposed  from 
what  yon  said  in  it  that  I  should  have  seen  you  in  vacation.  I 
was  really  very  sorry  indeed  that  I  was  not  at  home  when  you 
called  here.  I  should  have  enjoyed  seeing  you  very  much  indeed, 
but  we  must  wait  now.  Thanksgiving  week  I  spent  in  getting  np 
a  competent  knowledge  of  the  French  tongue  for  the  instruction 


MT.  19-20]    THE  LATIN   SCHOOL  115 

of  a  class  which  had  been  studying  it  for  about  two  years.  I  did 
it  and  have  got  along  with  it  for  about  a  week,  but  it  is  pretty 
slipshod  work,  and  I  shall  try  to  slip  it  and  teach  something 
where  I  can  feel  that  I  am  on  firmer  ground.  We  have  a  vacancy 
at  our  school,  and  S.  Wright,  B.  S.  Lyman,  H.  Walker,  and 
others  of  the  class  of  '55  applied,  but  failed.  Dimmock,  a  friend 
whom  you  may  remember  meeting  at  my  room  at  C.,  got  the 
place.  ...  I  had  a  letter  the  other  day  from  Dalton,  who  seems 
enjoying  himself  in  working  hard  at  New  York.  He  sends  good 
news  of  Barlow,  who  is  earning  his  $1800  and  keeping  straight  at 
present.  I  hear  of  you  as  a  great  favorite  among  the  beauty  (is 
there  much  of  it  ?)  at  Exeter.  Take  care  of  yourself,  I  beg  you, 
and  if  anything  serious  should  happen,  just  send  me  word  and  a 
card.  I  saw  Sanborn  yesterday  at  F.  W.  Clarke's,  where  he  has 
been  laid  up  sick,  but  I  believe  he  is  getting  better  now.  Every- 
thing is  fearfully  stupid  here  to  stupid  folks  like  me  who  are  not 
fond  of  gayety,  and  I  am  sure  I  can't  think  what  to  write  unless  I 
go  into  sentiment  or  morality,  to  neither  of  which  I  feel  much  in- 
clined after  examining,  with  the  aid  of  a  key  and  my  limited  know- 
ledge of  French,  thirty-five  exercises  from  my  class.  They  are 
the  most  disagreeable  set  of  creatures  without  exception  that  I  ever 
met  with.  I  have  a  distinct  recollection  of  writing  you  a  remark- 
ably brilliant  letter  last  time,  and  you  will  have  to  let  the  merits 
of  that  atone  for  the  deficiencies  of  this.  I  am  really  ashamed  of 
it,  but  am  tired,  sick,  cross,  and  almost  dead,  so  good-night  and 
good-by.  From  your  friend  ever, 

PHILLIPS  BROOKS. 

During  the  month  of  January  the  troubles  had  culminated 
and  things  were  at  their  worst.  He  fancies  that  he  sees  a  ray 
of  lighten  some  slight  improvement,  but  it  was  a  delusion :  — 

BOSTON,  January  19,  1856. 

DEAR  TOP,  —  I  feel  a  little  blue  to-night,  and  so  I  am  retired 
here  inflicting  myself  on  my  friends,  and  I  come  now  to  you  and 
wish  you  with  all  my  heart  a  very  Happy  New  Year.  I  am  very 
much  obliged  to  you  for  your  last  letter  and  the  sympathy  which 
you  express  with  the  laboring  ruler  of  my  rebellious  subjects.  I 
have  had  very  considerable  trouble,  but  matters  have  lately  been 
getting  a  little  better.  Things  have  settled  down  into  a  strong 
feeling  of  quiet  hate,  which  is  eminently  conducive  to  good  order 
and  rapid  progress.  In  all  my  experience  of  schoolboys  and 
schoolmasters  I  cannot  recall  a  single  teacher  who  was  honored 
with  such  an  overwhelming  share  of  deep,  steady,  honest  unpopu- 
larity as  is  at  this  moment  the  lot  of  your  harmless  and  inoffen- 


n6  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1855-56 

sire  friend.  I  believe  they  consider  me  just  now  as  a  sort  of 
dragon  with  his  claws  cut,  a  gigantic  ogre  who  would  like  to  eat 
them,  but  has  n't  the  stomach  to  do  it.  If  I  should  adopt  your 
plan  of  weekly  receptions  I  should  deem  it  safe  first  to  procure 
a  complete  suit  of  chain  armor  to  be  privately  worn  so  that  not  a 
heel  might  be  exposed  to  the  assassin's  knife  of  some  bloody  mem- 
bers of  the  Third  Class  of  the  Public  Latin  School.  It  may  be 
needful  to  explain  that  I  have  changed  my  class.  The  one  I  had 
before  were  splendid  little  fellows ;  these  are  tough  old  sinners 
with  the  iniquity  of  some  sixteen  springs,  summers,  autumns,  and 
winters  on  their  grim  hoary  heads.  I  am  teaching  them  French 
which  they  don't,  Greek  which  they  won't,  and  Virgil  which  they 

can't  understand  or  appreciate.     Take  ,  ,   ,   and 

,  select  from  each  his  "essentials,"  combine  and  digest  them 

well,  and  you  will  get  a  good  idea  of  the  qualities  and  pleasing 
characters  of  my  charming  charge.  I  lejoice  that  you  come  on 

so  well.     Macte  virtute.     Go  on  and  prosper.     is  living  a 

little  down  in Street.     I  see  him  now  and  then.     I  went  to 

walk  with  him  and the  other  Sunday,  and  felt  quite  like  an 

atheist.  The  idea  of  asking  me  whether  I  have  read  any  books ! 
I  work  like  a  dog  in  school  and  out,  and  the  Lord  knows  where  it 
is  going  to  end.  Tou  must  excuse  this  very  selfish  letter.  It  is 
a  great  relief  and  pleasure  to  talk  with  you  even  on  paper  and  on 
so  poor  and  trite  a  subject  as  a  discomfited  usher.  Let  me  hear 
from  you  when  you  can,  and  if  you  know  of  a  profitable  school 
anywhere  in  the  country  just  drop  a  line  to  your  downtrodden 
friend,  P.  B. 

The  bitter,  unequal  struggle  at  last  was  over,  and  the  giant 
escaped  from  the  toils.  There  was  a  touch  in  it  of  tragedy. 
The  letter  which  follows  has  its  pathos,  though  his  habitual 
reserve  will  not  allow  him  to  express  what  he  feels.  His 
deeper  reflections  he  keeps  to  himself. 

BOSTON,  February  14,  1856. 

DEAR  TOP,  —  Excuse  my  answering  your  letter  so  soon.  I  have 
just  received  it  from  the  post.  You  will  be  surprised  to  hear  that 
I  have  left  the  Latin  School  and  am  at  present  doing  nothing.  I 
resigned  my  situation  a  week  ago  yesterday  without  having  formed 
any  particular  plans  of  future  operations  and  am  at  present  adrift. 
The  situation  had  become  very  disagreeable,  and  I  had  been  gradu- 
ally coming  to  the  conclusion  that  it  did  n't  pay.  I  have  not  yet 
regretted  the  step  or  seen  how  under  the  circumstances  I  should 
have  done  differently  again.  During  the  first  three  months  I  was 
there  I  enjoyed  it  much;  but  as  I  told  you  my  situation  was  con- 


MT.  19-20]     THE  LATIN   SCHOOL  117 

siderably  changed,  and  I  thought  at  last  it  was  best  to  cut  the 
matter  short  at  once,  and  so  I  did.  I  don't  know  yet  what  I  shall 
do.  I  may  go  at  once  to  some  profession,  or  I  may  get  private 
pupils  here  or  elsewhere  for  a  time  and  live  on  so.  I  will  let 
you  know  when  I  am  settled  anywhere.  I  am  glad  you  still  like 
your  place ;  may  it  continue  pleasant  and  profitable.  I  am  study- 
ing pretty  hard,  reading  French  and  Greek  and  Latin  five  or  six 
hours  a  day.  I  like  this  well  enough,  but  it  will  not  do  to  go  on 
so,  and  I  am  open  at  present  to  proposals  of  all  kinds  whatsoever. 
...  I  have  seen  Charles  Adams  and  Stephen  Perkins  to-day. 
They  urge  me  to  write  to  Barlow  to  ask  what  is  the  chance  in  try- 
ing my  lot  in  New  York.  I  may  and  may  not.  When  do  you 
have  a  vacation  again?  You  mustn't  miss  seeing  me  the  next 
time  you  are  in  Boston.  May  I  ask  what  salary  you  get  in  your 
present  post  ?  Excuse  the  small  size  of  my  sheet.  I  have  crowded 
my  writing  to  correspond.  Let  me  hear  from  you  to-morrow  or 
next  day.  I  am  Your  friend,  P. 

This  is  his  father's  comment  in  his  journal  on  his  son's 
failure.  It  tells  the  story  briefly :  — 

February  8,  1856. 

An  occurrence  took  place  to-day  that  has  given  us  some  anxiety, 
that  of  son  Phillips 's  inability  to  maintain  his  position  as  usher  in 
the  Latin  School.  It  was  entirely  for  the  want  of  discipline. 
He  was  not  enough  of  a  disciplinarian  to  maintain  the  necessary 
good  order,  and  he  was  put  at  the  head  of  a  class  of  thirty-five 
boys  that  were  rowdy  and  unruly  and  had  already  had  two  mas- 
ters who  had  left  them.  Not  receiving  the  necessary  assistance 
and  advice  from  the  Principal,  I  was  obliged  to  advise  his  resig- 
nation. The  class  of  boys  were  from  fifteen  to  seventeen  years  of 
age,  and  he  is  but  twenty.  The  task  was  too  much  for  him,  and 
he  is  now  looking  for  work. 

The  following  letters  of  Brooks  to  Sawyer  cover  the 
waiting  period,  from  the  time  of  his  resigning  from  the 
Latin  School  until  his  decision  about  his  future  had  been 
reached.  It  will  be  seen  that  his  mind  was  vacillating  and 
that  his  mood  was  despondent.  But  the  letters  need  no 
comment. 

BOSTON,  March  5, 1853. 

DEAR  TOP,  —  I  was  glad  to  get  your  last  note,  though  I  had  no 
intention  in  mine  which  provoked  it  of  hurrying  you  up  so  fear- 
fully. My  remark  that  I  should  expect  an  answer  in  one  or  two 


u8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS         [1855-56 

days  WM  purely  incidental.  I  think  it  probable  at  present  that 
its  principal  object  was  to  fill  out  a  spare  corner  of  the  sheet.  I 
am  a  good  deal  at  leisure  just  now,  being  engaged  only  two  hours 
a  day  with  a  couple  of  pupils  whom  I  instruct  together  in  the 
simplest  English  branches,  and  who  pay  tolerably  well.  How  long 
this  will  last  I  don't  know.  I  have  engaged  for  a  year,  but  with 
liberty  to  break  off  at  any  moment.  My  odd  time  I  spend  a  good 
deal  in  reading  and  studying,  so  that  it  doesn't  hang  heavy  on  my 
hands  at  all.  But  then  there  is  the  old  bread-and-butter  objec- 
tion that  this  is  n't  quite  making  my  fortune,  and  that  something 
must  be  done,  so  meanwhile  I  am  waiting  and  looking  for  that 
mysterious  "something"  which  is  to  be.  I  do  not  think  it  im- 
probable that  I  may  give  up  all  thoughts  of  teaching  and  go  to 
studying  my  profession  in  the  fall.  I  have  n't  yet  decided  what 
it  will  be.  Perhaps  you  can  guess.  I  have  just  entered  into  a 
conspiracy  with  Charles  for  an  hour's  attack  on  Schiller  his  "  Wal- 
lenstein  "  every  afternoon  beginning  at  this  present  date.  .  .  . 

Your  friend,  P. 


BOSTON,  Monday  evening,  Jane,  1856. 

DEAR  TOP,  — Your  letter  came  some  time  ago,  but  I  have  really 
been  so  busy  doing  nothing  ever  since  that  I  have  not  had  time  to 
answer  it,  and  now  that  I  have  set  out  and  got  a  clean  pen  and 
new  filled  my  inkstand  I  don't  seem  to  have  very  much  to  write 
about.  What  was  that  you  said  about  going  out  West,  and  what 
has  come  of  it,  anything?  Perhaps  this  won't  find  you  at  Exeter. 
If  so  I  hope  the  Dead  Letter  Office  officials  will  be  edified  by  its 
perusal.  ...  I  am  doing  just  what  I  was  when  you  saw  me 
hist,  no  more.  I  needn't  say  no  less,  for  that  would  be  barely 
possible.  I  have  not  yet  any  possible  plans  for  the  Fall,  but 
shall  not  study  a  profession.  I  don't  know  exactly  what  will  be- 
come of  me,  and  don't  care  much.  ...  I  had  a  walk  with  San- 
born  yesterday  afternoon.  He  ridiculed  me  when  I  attempted  to 
give  him  on  your  authority  a  piece  of  news,  —  that  Morton  was 

engaged.     I  met  this  afternoon.      He  is  very  weak.      He 

had  apparently  lost  what  little  brains  he  ever  had,  and  was  in 
hopeless  search  of  them.  Bob  Paine  with  all  his  family  are  going 

to  Italy  in  the  Fall  for  a  year  or  two.      I  sat  next  to  at 

the  theatre  the  other  evening,  and  what  with  him  and  the  Mid- 
summer Night's  Dream  I  had  a  pretty  tolerably  hard  time  of  it. 
I  recollect  part  of  your  letter  was  quite  literary,  but  not  being  in 
that  mood  to-night  you  must  excuse  any  attempt  of  the  kind  on 
my  part.  I  wish  I  was  fifteen  years  old  again.  I  believe  I  might 


ALT.  19-20]     THE   LATIN   SCHOOL  119 

make  a  stunning  man,  but  somehow  or  other  I  don't  seem  in  the 
way  to  come  to  much  just  now.  Shall  you  stay  at  Exeter  another 
year  ?  If  not,  what  will  you  do  ?  I  am  astonished  at  your  taking 
such  shams  as  mine  for  letters,  hut  if  you  are  contented  it  's  all 
right.  I  think  if  the  P.  0.  department  knew  what  was  in  them 
they  would  certainly  let  them  pass  with  a  one  cent  stamp.  I 
have  a  slight  suspicion  that  I  am  getting  incoherent,  and  a  moral 
certainty  that  I  'in  sleepy,  and  so  good-night,  and  write  soon. 

P.  B. 

BOSTON,  July  2,  1856. 

DEAR  TOP,  —  I  believe  I  am  owing  you  a  letter,  and  as  my 
urchin  is  sick  this  morning  and  has  consequently  suspended  his 
need  of  my  instructions  I  have  an  hour  to  spend  to  gratify  your 
craving  for  an  epistle.  The  world  here  has  not  been  very  event- 
ful since  I  wrote  you  last,  that  is  to  say,  the  somewhat  narrow 
world  in  which  I  prefer  to  move.  I  have  been  to  Cambridge  two  or 
three  times  lately,  —  once  to  the  Seniors'  Pudding  Benefit,  which 
was  not  much;  secondly,  to  the  Juniors'  play  and  Strawberry  meet- 
ing soon  after,  which  was  excellently  done,  that  is  to  say  the  play, 
and  the  strawberries  big,  sweet,  and  plenty  of  them ;  thirdly,  I 
went  to  Class  Day,  that  is  to  say,  I  was  out  for  an  hour  or  two 
in  the  afternoon.  It  passed  off  perhaps  as  well  as  could  be  ex- 
pected of  the  class  of  '56.  They  had  their  exercises  in  the  church, 
which  I  hear  was  crowded.  As  to  the  quality  of  the  performance, 
a  profound  silence  prevails.  A  good  many  of  the  great  class  were 
there.  .  .  .  Dalton  was  down  and  spent  the  next  Sunday  with 
me.  So  you  have  settled  into  the  armchair  for  life,  deliberately 
given  away  your  existence  for  the  next  generations.  I  hope  San- 
born' s  visit,  of  which  I  believe  you  spoke  in  your  last,  had  no 
hand  in  summarily  settling  your  fate  by  the  magic  of  his  enthu- 
siasm and  advice.  I  wish  you  with  all  my  heart  a  happy  life  in 
the  dictatorial  chair,  and  if  it  shall  ever  be  in  my  fate  to  see  little 
hungry  youths  around  me  begging  for  crumbs  of  Greek  which  my 
exhausted  stock  is  incapable  of  giving,  I  shall  know  where  to 
turn  for  the  best  supply  that  the  country  affords.  As  for  myself, 
my  plans  and  life  are  quite  as  unsettled  now  as  when  I  used  to 
devote  spare  half  hours  to  thinking  of  them  now  and  then  up  in 
Stoughton.  Shan't  you  be  down  to  Commencement,  which  I 
believe  comes  a  fortnight  from  to-day  ?  No  doubt  a  great  many 
of  us  will  be  there,  and  it  will  be  very  pleasant.  .  .  .  Have  you 
gone  Kansas-mad?  Sanborn,  I  believe,  is  quite  rabid.  I  heard 
the  other  day  of  his  giving  $100  to  the  cause.  .  .  .  You  must 
excuse  the  looks  of  this  scrawl,  but  it  is  really  an  immense  relief 


PHILLIPS  BROOKS         [1855-56 

to  be  able  to  write  now  and  then  without  the  fear  of  criticism 
before  your  eyes,  without  caring  what  sort  of  a  show  the  thing 
makes,  but  trusting  humbly  to  your  indulgence  to  your  friend, 

PHILLIPS  BROOKS. 

These  letters  to  his  college  friend,  covering  the  six  months 
after  his  resignation  from  the  Latin  School,  call  for  a  brief 
comment.  They  have  a  nonchalant  tone ;  they  are  couched 
in  the  familiar  dialect  of  a  college  student,  who  has  not  yet 
recovered  from  the  thraldom  of  college  conventionalities. 
They  show  how  deeply  and  completely  he  had  entered  into 
the  spirit  of  college  life.  It  had  been  to  him  a  time  of 
emancipation  from  the  strict  law  of  the  household,  when  he 
had  felt  and  enjoyed  his  independence,  when  the  joy  of  life, 
the  mere  pleasure  of  living,  had  been  a  sort  of  intoxication 
of  his  spirit.  He  had  seen  college  life  in  all  its  phases, 
associating  with  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men,  watching 
what  is  called  the  Bohemian  temperament,  while  inwardly 
scorning  its  lower  manifestations  and  its  false  conception  of 
life.  His  identification  with  the  standards  and  fashion  of 
the  college  world  was  the  more  complete  because  of  his  quick 
sensibility  to  external  influences.  His  reserve  would  have 
prevented  him  from  showing  the  deeper,  more  serious  pur- 
pose within,  even  had  that  purpose  begun  yet  to  stir  his 
spiritual  nature.  He  was  struggling  against  the  temptations 
of  youth,  fighting  his  battle  with  the  passions  of  his  nature, 
and  the  strength  of  the  conflict  was  greater  in  proportion  to 
his  greater  capacities  for  good  and  evil.  But  even  this  con- 
flict he  disguised,  wearing  his  mask  so  well  that  to  some  who 
knew  him  his  life  at  moments  seemed  like  a  rudderless  ship, 
whose  sails  hung  idly,  flapping  with  the  breeze,  as  though  it 
were  uncertain  what  his  decision  would  be.  No  strong  and 
avowed  religious  consecration  kept  him  from  falling,  but 
rather  the  habit  of  Christian  nurture,  the  unconscious  virtue, 
the  respect  for  moral  traditions.  His  fall  came,  or  what 
corresponds  to  it,  when  he  was  first  put  to  the  test  of  actual 
life  and  succumbed  in  the  struggle  with  a  class  of  turbulent 
boys.  Although  he  had  chosen  the  calling  of  a  teacher  in 
sincerity  and  with  a  high  ideal  of  its  possibilities,  yet  he  still 


JET.  19-20]     THE  LATIN   SCHOOL  121 

lacked  the  highest  inward  fitness  and  the  consecration,  for  he 
was  postponing  the  deeper  spiritual  issues  of  life. 

It  is  difficult  to  speak  upon  this  point  in  the  absence  of 
any  definite  confession  of  his  own.  One  who  read  himself 
as  he  did,  and  was  so  alive  to  all  that  was  passing  within, 
could  not  have  been  unaware  of  a  great  issue  postponed. 
But  we  encounter  here  a  reserve  so  deep  that  it  is  impossible 
to  do  more  than  surmise.  This  much  seems  to  be  clear,  that 
he  had  not  been  consciously  reached  by  the  religious  teach- 
ing at  St.  Paul's  Church,  and  to  a  certain  extent  was  in 
revolt  against  it.  While  in  college  he  had  listened  with  a 
critical  mind.  He  is  still  remembered  as  he  sat  in  the  fam- 
ily pew,  No.  60.  His  favorite  place  was  at  the  end  of 
the  pew,  and  there  crouched  down  with  his  head  between 
his  shoulders,  hardly  visible,  one  could  not  tell  whether  or  not 
he  were  paying  attention  to  the  preacher.  But  it  is  evident 
that  he  heard,  and  from  some  of  the  teaching  dissented.  The 
Christian  life,  as  presented  by  the  Evangelical  school,  of 
which  Dr.  Vinton  was  a  distinguished  representative,  called 
for  a  renunciation  of  much  which  he  knew  or  believed  to  be 
good.  The  conventional  denunciation  of  the  intellect  as  a 
dangerous  guide,  and  of  wealth  as  a  thing  to  be  avoided,  the 
condemnation  of  the  natural  joy  in  life  and  its  innocent 
amusements,  the  schism  between  religion  and  life,  —  against 
all  this  he  inwardly  protested.  If  this  was  what  devotion 
to  the  law  of  God  demanded,  he  was  not  ready  to  make  the 
sacrifice  of  his  will. 

In  this  interval  of  waiting,  Dr.  Vinton,  meeting  his  father, 
sent  word  to  Phillips  to  come  and  see  him.  His  father 
replied  that  Phillips  would  not  then  see  any  one,  but  that 
after  he  got  over  the  feeling  of  mortification  in  consequence 
of  his  failure  he  would  come.  His  first  step  toward  recovery 
was  to  consult,  not  Dr.  Vinton,  but  Dr.  Walker,  the  Presi- 
dent of  Harvard  College.  To  him  he  had  listened  occa- 
sionally in  the  college  chapel  on  Sunday  evenings,  and  for 
his  character  as  a  man  and  his  power  as  a  preacher  he 
felt  the  deepest  veneration.  Dr.  Walker  was  a  veritable 
confessor  to  souls  by  an  inward  divine  appointment,  a  rare 


iaa  PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [1855-56 

man,  who  had  the  confidence  of  Harvard  students.  The 
details  of  this  interview  we  do  not  know,  but  only  this, 
that  Dr.  Walker  advised  him  to  study  for  the  ministry. 
President  Eliot,  at  that  time  a  tutor  in  the  college,  was  on 
his  way  to  Dr.  Walker's,  and  recalls  how  he  met  Phillips 
Brooks  at  the  door  coming  from  the  interview.  He  was 
struck  by  his  appearance :  his  face  was  of  a  deathly  white- 
ness, the  evidence  of  some  great  crisis.  Once  again  in 
Phillips  Brooks's  life  President  Eliot  saw  him  under  a  simi- 
lar situation,  — in  1881,  when  he  called  to  decline  the  offer 
of  a  professorship  at  Harvard.  Then  again  his  face  was 
strangely  white,  under  some  extraordinary  emotion,  and 
President  Eliot  remembered  the  vision  of  1856. l 

The  six  months  which  elapsed  after  his  leaving  the  Latin 
School  are  seen,  in  the  light  of  these  letters  to  his  friend 
Sawyer,  to  have  been  a  dreary  and  gloomy  period,  when  the 
depression  of  his  spirit  reached  its  lowest  degree.  He  read 
and  studied,  mainly  classical  writers,  and  kept  up  his  read- 
ing of  German,  perhaps  from  habit,  or  the  necessity  of  doing 
something,  or  as  though  there  were  still  some  possible  pro- 
spect in  the  future  of  his  becoming  a  teacher.  He  wandered 
through  the  streets  of  Boston,  meeting  now  and  then  a  class- 
mate or  college  friend.  He  kept  a  list  of  the  names  of  his 
class,  jotting  down  against  each  name  what  occupation  he 
had  found  or  what  profession  he  was  planning.  The  mortifi- 
cation of  failure  rested  like  an  incubus  on  his  proud  and  sen- 
sitive spirit.  It  might  have  been  better  for  him  if  he  could 
have  gone  away  from  home  to  make  a  fresh  start  in  life, 
when  college  experience  would  have  relapsed  more  quickly 
into  its  true  perspective.  He  was  still  hanging  about  the 
place  of  the  gay  assemblage  when  the  guests  were  gone  and 
the  lights  were  out.  We  can  hardly  exaggerate  the  trial  he 
was  passing  through.  He  had  made  his  first  essay  at  real 

1  "  '  President  Walker  encouraged  me  in  choosing  the  ministry,  but  he  was 
not  enthusiastic  ;  he  was  not  an  enthusiastic  man,  bnt  he  was  distinctly  encour- 
aging. He  did  not  tell  me  that  I  could  not  preach  because  of  my  stammering, 
for  I  never  did  stammer,  yon  know.'  And  then  we  laughed  over  the  utterly 
groundless  traditions  that  were  in  circulation  at  different  times  as  to  his  per* 
•onal  habits."  (Extract  from  a  private  letter.) 


.  19-20]     THE   LATIN   SCHOOL  123 

life  and  had  been  defeated.  He  had  been  shut  out  from  his 
Eden  by  a  stern  decree;  a  flaming  sword  confronted  him, 
which  turned  every  way  to  keep  him  from  his  chosen  voca- 
tion. In  his  desperation  he  had  resolved  to  give  up  all 
ambition  for  himself,  to  be  content  with  the  lowest  and 
humblest  place  at  the  feast  of  life.  He  said  to  himself  that 
if  he  could  not  be  first  he  would  be  kst,  —  Aut  Ccesar 
aut  nullus.  He  was  deeply  impressed  by  reading  a  popular 
book  which  had  then  just  appeared,  Souvestre's  "Attic 
Philosopher"  (Un  Philosophe  sous  les  Toits,  Journal  d'un 
Homme  Heureux),  the  story  of  "a  man  who  in  the  midst  of 
the  fever,  the  restlessness  and  ambition  which  racks  society 
in  our  time,  continues  to  fill  his  humble  part  in  the  world 
without  a  murmur,  and  who  preserves,  so  to  speak,  the  taste 
for  poverty.  With  no  other  fortune  than  a  small  clerkship, 
which  enables  him  to  live  within  the  narrow  limits  sepa- 
rating competence  from  want,  our  philosopher  looks  from 
the  heights  of  his  attic  upon  society  as  upon  a  sea,  of  which 
he  neither  covets  the  riches  nor  fears  the  wrecks.  Too  insig- 
nificant to  excite  the  envy  of  any  one,  he  sleeps  peacefully, 
wrapped  in  his  obscurity."  He  was  so  impressed  with  the 
lesson  of  the  book  that  he  wrote  a  short  story,  working  up 
the  experience  of  the  sisters  Frances  and  Madeleine,  in  his 
own  way,  with  a  conversation  upon  it,  in  which  different 
speakers  express  their  judgments  upon  life. 

He  had  not  yet  begun  to  keep  a  journal,  but  he  now  wrote 
down  some  of  his  thoughts  upon  detached  sheets  of  paper. 
The  need  of  expression  was  imperative,  and  there  was  no  one 
to  whom  he  could  go  to  unburden  himself;  he  hardly  knew 
as  yet,  indeed,  what  the  burden  was  which  he  was  carrying. 
In  walking  the  streets  of  Boston  he  was  as  much  alone  as 
if  he  had  been  in  the  desert,  for  the  waste  of  his  experience 
was  a  veritable  Horeb,  as  with  the  prophet  receiving  a 
revelation  within  the  soul.  He  is  communing  with  himself 
and  with  God  as  he  wrote,  though  his  comments  assume  a 
literary  form  from  force  of  habit.  There  is  reserve  here, 
even  to  himself ;  but  as  we  read  we  become  aware  that  we  are 
listening  to  the  cry  from  the  depths,  suspiria  de  profundis,  the 


124  PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [1855-56 

first  faint  breathings  of  an  awakening  soul,  the  confessions  of 
an  inquiring  spirit. 

THE  LIFE  AND  CHARACTER  OF  k 

How  pure  in  heart,  how  true  in  head, 

With  what  divine  affection*  bold, 

Most  be  the  man  whose  tool  would  hold 
An  hoar's  communion  with  the  dead  1 

These,  I  think,  are  exactly  the  feelings  with  which  we  should 
approach  the  study  of  a  life  which  has  been  lived  here  on  earth. 
I  think  that  in  our  democratic  grouping  of  mankind  we  recognize 
too  little  the  individualities  of  individual  human  natures.  We 
read  too  little  the  infinite  variety  of  the  human  mind.  I  think 
the  man  never  yet  lived  who  could  fully,  sympathetically,  and 
understandingly  appreciate  any  other  man.  Each  mind  and  soul 
in  the  fulness  of  its  powers  and  its  weaknesses,  its  capacities  and 
its  deficiencies,  is  more  or  less  a  riddle  unread  and  unreadable  by 
every  other  mind  and  soul.  The  Amsterdam  idiot,  with  all  his 
idiocy,  has  more  in  him  than  Plato  or  Bacon  or  the  wisest  with  all 
their  wisdom  could  comprehend ;  if  nothing  else,  his  idiocy  itself 
was  something,  if  not  beyond,  yet  unalterably  out  of  the  range 
of  their  intellects.  Let  us  respect  then  in  studying  the  life  of 
this  God-given  individuality;  let  us  own  our  weakness  and  in- 
capacity for  the  study;  let  us  bring  with  us  here  so  far  as  we 
may,  so  far  as  an  earnest  desire  and  a  humble  resolution  may  en- 
able us  to  do,  that  pureness  of  heart  and  trueness  of  head  which 
we  need  in  holding,  as  we  do  now,  an  hour's  communion  with 
the  great  dead,  in  trying  to  weigh  and  gauge  the  life  of  a  man 
whom  God  sent  here  to  do  his  work  on  earth,  and  has  taken  back 
again  to  Himself  after  that  work  is  over,  to  weigh  and  gauge  it 
infallibly. 

Mind,  intellect,  we  can  measure  only  by  original  thought. 
Knowledge  may  show  a  man's  application,  wealth  may  declare 
his  industry,  power  may  prove  his  tact  (his  smartness,  we  call  it 
here) ;  this  alone  can  establish  the  depth  and  worth  and  power  of 
his  mind.  If  Plato  or  Aristotle  were  to  come  on  earth  to-day 
just  as  they  left  it  some  twenty  centuries  ago,  yon  or  I  could  take 
them  to  school ;  we  could  teach  them  new  facts  in  science,  new 
truths  in  religion,  new  events  in  history,  new  lessons  in  worldly 
wisdom,  but  would  we  therefore  boast  of  greater  intellect,  truly 
speaking,  greater  knowledge,  than  Plato  or  Aristotle  ?  Our  pupils 
would  take  our  teachings  even  from  our  lips,  but  how  soon  we 


JET.  19-20]     THE  LATIN   SCHOOL  125 

should  find  that  they  had  passed  into  them  with  a  power  that  they 
never  had  in  us ;  that  what  we  had  learned  and  taught  as  new 
they  were  using  as  gods,  and  our  facts  and  truths,  events  and 
lessons,  growing  pliant  in  those  old  hands,  would  melt  and  mould 
in  purer  and  stronger  shapes  of  symmetry  and  truth.  Most  gen- 
erally the  work  is  not  thought  of  nor  its  need  deplored  till  the 
worker  comes  to  do  it.  The  marble  slept  cold  and  stiff  for  geo- 
logical ages  in  Pentelicus  before  the  Parthenon  was  built. 

It  seems  sometimes  as  if  the  world  had  to  come  back  every  lit- 
tle while  and  prove  its  first  principles.  Those  primary  truths 
which  are  constantly  in  use  grow,  as  if  by  friction,  smooth  and 
tame  and  dull.  Men  build  their  heavy  structures  of  religion, 
policy,  and  law  on  what  they  honestly  and  earnestly  believe  a  firm 
foundation,  and  then  taking  their  foundation  for  granted  they  for- 
get it  for  a  while  and  go  on  with  their  superstructure.  But  the 
world's  little  or  large  waves  are  beating,  heard  or  unheard,  down 
below,  till  some  son  or  son's  son  dreams  that  the  basis  which  his 
father  laid  is  safe  and  sound  after  all,  and  he  goes  down  and  tries 
it  again  and  once  more  begins  the  bulky  work.  The  world  comes 
forever  back  to  Pilate's  question,  What  is  truth?  What  do  I 
believe,  and  why  do  I  believe  it?  It  has  proved  that  our  fathers 
were  mistaken  about  the  planets ;  let  us  see  whether  they  knew 
about  the  soul.  These  investigations  are  occasional,  and  (it  is  both 
a  good  and  a  bad  sign)  they  seem  to  grow  more  frequent.  Is 
not  one  going  on  now?  There  was  one  in  Luther's  time,  another 
in  the  later  mythologists',  and  still  another  in  the  prophets' ;  all 
were  more  partial  and  more  reverent  than  this  last. 

How  often  we  are  made  to  feel  that  there  is  very  much  in  us 
which  our  nearest  friends  do  not  and  cannot  know.  I  do  not 
think  there  is  a  man  living,  however  base  or  weak  or  dull  or  com- 
monplace, who  does  not  in  some  waking  moment  of  his  dim  life 
feel,  perhaps  with  no  more  fulness  than  we  may  suppose  an  infant 
to  enter  into  man's  life,  that  he  has  more  in  him  than  he  dares 
or  cares  or  is  able  to  show  out,  more  of  feeling,  good  or  bad,  more 
of  power,  more  of  manhood.  How  little  we  know  of  ourselves! 
How  we  are  forever  making  discoveries  in  our  own  characters, 
tearing  off  disguises,  tearing  down  old  idols,  tearing  to  pieces  old 
rules  and  canons  which  were  once  like  Heaven's  truth  to  our  blind 
hearts.  Then  we  are  always  or  often  (not  often  enough)  finding 
in  ourselves  new  capacity  and  appreciation  for  goodness  and  beauty 
and  truth,  new  rooms  for  knowledge  and  new  desires  to  fill  them. 
We  think  we  have  no  taste  for  music  and  sweet  sounds,  till  in 


1 16  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1855-56 

mime  moment  when  we  least  expect  it,  some  simple  melody  will 
till  our  hearts  and  dim  our  eyes  and  make  us  in  a  moment  better, 
purer  men.  We  have  looked  at  art  all  our  days  and  smiled  at 
the  enthusiasm  of  others,  till  some  sweet  face  in  a  picture  sends 
its  beauty  into  our  souls,  and  we  have  gained,  knowing  or  unknow- 
ing it,  a  new  joy  forever.  We  do  not  know  ourselves.  And 
when  I  profess  my  ignorance  of  what  I  am,  shall  another  pretend 
to  teach  me?  Knowing  far  more  than  any  one  else  knows  of  mo, 
and  knowing  that  I  know  it,  I  think  we  may  learn  from  it  a  les- 
son of  self-dependence  or  rather  of  independence  of  others ;  for 
here  may  we  not  see  one  of  the  secrets  of  man's  need  and  craving 
and  demand  for  a  God,  for  something  to  trust  to.  I  and  you 
know  neither  ourselves  nor  each  other ;  every  day  we  feel  it  more 
and  more.  But  not  to  be  all  unknown  we  may  find  one  who 
knows  us  both;  and  while  in  self -distrust  and  mutual  ignorance 
we  are  separated  from  each  other,  let  us  rest  with  Him  and  make 
through  Him  a  surer  union  for  ourselves.  We  may  love  God  not 
only  because  He  made  us  and  guards  us  and  supports  us,  but  also 
because  He  knows  us,  and  thus  our  love  to  Him  will  be  essentially 
different  in  kind  from  that  which  any  human  creature  has  ever 
excited,  or  can  ever  excite,  in  any  other.  The  fulness  of  know- 
ledge, where  no  richer  or  deeper  can  be  hoped,  will  be  to  know 
then,  just  as  we  may  feel  or  find  comfort  in  the  feeling  that  we 
are  known  now. 

Reading  Pope's  Homer  seems  to  me  to  be  an  entirely  different 
thing  from  reading  the  Greek  (even  with  my  slight  knowledge  of 
the  tongue  as  I  and  my  lexicon  spell  it  out  together).  It  seems 
another  poem,  as  different  as  the  two  men,  as  far  apart  as  blind, 
old,  grave,  majestic  Homer,  wandering  and  singing  years  ago,  and 
little,  crooked,  snarling,  fanciful,  and  withal  conceited  Alexander 
Pope  coolly  sitting  down  to  do  him  into  English  ages  after.  Both 
are  poems,  but  they  are  not  the  same  poem  at  all.  If  Pope  had 
been  less  of  a  poet  I  think  we  should  have  got  more  of  Homer  in 
his  version.  Thus  Churchill  and  Cowper  I  think  show  the  old 
minstrel  better,  though  they  give  less  new  poetry  than  Pope. 

Are  not  the  most  valued  and  the  most  valuable  results  of  virtue 
in  many  cases  exactly  those  things  for  which  as  ends  it  should 
not  be  sought,  and  for  whose  sake  if  sought  it  will  never  be 
reached  ?  They  are  what  virtue  is  willing  to  bestow  as  free  gifts, 
but  what  she  will  not  degrade  by  turning  them  into  mere  hire- 
ling's wages.  Purity  is  strength,  but  the  purity  which  is  sought 
for  its  strength  is  pure  no  longer. 

April,  1866. 


MT.  19-20]     THE  LATIN   SCHOOL  127 


RUTH. 

Sweet  Moab  gleaner  on  old  Israel's  plain, 

Thy  simple  story  moveth  like  a  power. 
Thy  pure  calm  face  looks  from  the  ripened  grain 
Wherein  thou  gleanest,  on  our  toil  and  pain, 
And  in  the  light  of  thy  soft  eyes  again 

Our  dead  lives  bud  and  blossom  into  flower. 

O,  lives  like  thine,  sweet  Ruth,  are  holy  things, 
Rich,  simple,  earnest  in  their  wealth  of  duty  ; 
God's  love  forever  to  their  music  sings, 
His  angels  shield  them  with  their  sheltering  wings, 
His  spirit,  truth  and  trust  and  comfort  brings, 
And  God  himself  smiles  on  their  godlike  beauty. 

How  many  men,  and  not  useless  or  unnecessary  men  either, 
seem  born  merely  for  the  development  or  exhibition  of  others. 
They  make  no  show,  carry  no  glitter  with  themselves,  but  others 
coming  near  catch  a  brilliance  that  was  not  in  them  before,  or 
that  was  so  deep  within  them  as  not  to  be  seen  without,  and  the 
dull  become  glorious  and  the  stupid  bright.  Such  are  the  men 
for  hard-working,  necessary,  thankless  posts,  —  school-teachers, 
spies,  confidential  agents,  etc. 

How  much  power  is  lost  or  impaired  in  this  world  by  being  in 
the  wrong  hands.  I  suppose  every  man  has  often  felt  that  he  has 
capacities  in  him  which  another  man  would  turn  (perhaps  only 
from  their  combination  with  other  qualities)  to  honor,  or  profit,  or 
power  of  some  kind,  yet  feeling  all  the  while  that  in  their  own 
hand  these  selfsame  capabilities  are  lying  and  probably  will 
always  lie  unused.  If  this  be  so  may  we  not  suppose  that  we  all 
possess,  though  they  be  not  useful  in  us,  all  the  germs  or  seeds,  if 
not  of  all  capacities,  yet  of  many  more  than  we  are  in  the  habit  of 
using  every  day,  and  so  hope  that  in  a  fuller  and  completer  estate 
of  being,  when  that  which  is  in  part  shall  be  done  away,  this  par- 
tialness  of  our  own  development  and  use  may  become  obsolete,  and 
we  may  awake  and  know  ourselves,  our  powers,  our  abilities,  our 
uses,  and  rise  to  new  lives,  new  aims,  new  ends  of  being  ? 

Most  men  read  other  men's  lives  as  they  would  spell  out  a 
language  of  which  they  are  ignorant,  but  which  somewhat  resem- 
bles their  own.  With  the  help  of  a  word  here  and  there,  which 
looks  a  little  like  one  with  which  they  are  familiar,  they  go  bun- 


ia8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1855-56 

gling,  stumbling,  doubting  through,  reading  a  little,  guessing  at 
more,  and  letting  the  rest  go  altogether.  Let  such  pray  for  a 
moral  gift  of  tongues,  a  mental  Pentecost  which  shall  teach  them 
the  strange  language  in  which  their  neighbors'  lives  are  written. 
No  one  can  ever  know  how  far  he  is  a  fair  specimen  of  his  race, 
how  well  he  embodies  its  average  endowments  and  may  serve  as  a 
sample  to  judge  humanity.  We  may  hope  that  we  are  none  of  us 
so,  —  an  average  man ;  a  sample  human  must  be  a  miserable 
creature. 

The  attempts  to  control  and  change  belief  by  arbitrary  com- 
mands, which  appear  so  absurd  and  impossible  as  they  were  at- 
tempted at  the  time  when  the  Reformation  was  going  on,  are  per- 
haj>s  not  so  strange  after  all,  or  rather  the  strangeness  and  false 
judgment  lay  not  so  much  in  the  thing  undertaken  as  in  the  man- 
ner in  which  the  attempt  was  made.  It  has  been  done  for  ages, 
by  Popes  and  Saints,  by  direct,  open,  undisguised  undoubting 
dictation.  It  is  doing  now,  and  has  been  doing  ever  since,  by 
ministers  and  writers,  by  the  quieter,  but  scarcely  less  arbitrary 
demands  of  personal  influence,  social  custom,  apparent  logic,  and 
blind  individual  reverence.  Now  the  error  of  those  who  attempted 
this  same  thing  and  failed  in  the  sixteenth  century,  as  King  Henry 
VIII.  in  England  and  others  elsewhere,  would  seem  to  be  that, 
living  in  a  changing  age,  their  age  was  a  little  in  advance  of  them, 
they  were  passing  from  the  old  to  the  new  way  of  receiving  belief, 
they  still  clung  to  the  old  way  of  impressing  it,  and  hence  arose 
the  trouble. 

How  strangely  at  times  we  wake  up  to  a  new  meaning  or  a  new 
beauty  in  an  old,  dry  commonplace  that  has  been  growing  rusty 
on  the  lips  of  men  for  years,  —  one  of  those  didactic  heirlooms 
that  father  has  handed  down  to  son  through  long  generations  of 
stupidity.  We  have  received  it  as  stupidly  as  any  before  us, 
either  stupidly  thinking  that  we  felt  its  force,  or  as  stolidly 
scorning  it  as  trite  and  lifeless.  But  sometimes  a  thought  will 
come  like  an  angel  to  the  pool ;  our  souls  are  troubled,  and  the 
old  dead  axiom  finds  its  place  as  a  living  working  thing ;  light 
breaks  from  its  eye;  its  heart  begins  a  human  beating,  its  tongue 
is  loosed,  and  the  dumb  speaks  oracles.  It  is  only  another  instance 
that  man  may  hold  power  in  his  hands  and  not  know  it,  another 
proof  of  life  and  energy  that  is  passing  for  death  all  around  us, 
because  we  are  so  far  from  perfect  that  we  cannot  make  use  even 
of  all  our  imperfections. 


19-20]     THE   LATIN   SCHOOL  129 

"Take  up  thy  bed  and  walk;  "  the  sick  man  heard; 

One  moment  prostrate  at  the  Saviour's  feet, 
And  then  obedient  to  the  Master's  word 
Went  praising  Jesus  up  the  Jewish  street. 

Speak  to  our  souls  which  long  have  lain,  O  God, 
Crushed  with  the  palsy  of  our  mortal  sin ; 

O,  bid  us  rise  and  lift  our  grievous  load, 

And  we  will  labor  up  the  toilsome  road, 

Till  heaven's  wide  gates  receive  the  wanderers  in. 

With  how  much  clearness  and  precision  we  can  often  trace  the 
steps  by  which  a  man  has  mounted  to  some  leading  principle,  the 
mental  ladder  by  which  he  has  climbed  to  some  great  idea.  The 
materials  lie  in  everybody's  hands ;  the  only  difficulty  is  in  the  in- 
genuity necessary  for  building  them  into  shape,  and  the  strength 
of  head  which  is  required  to  mount  without  dizziness  from  stage 
to  stage.  Every  man  must  build  his  own  ladder.  We  cannot 
use  each  other's.  And  it  depends  upon  a  man's  own  clearness 
and  soundness  of  head  whether,  having  reached  the  summit,  he 
can  cast  off  the  steps  by  which  he  mounted,  or  needs  them  still  to 
rest  his  eye  on  them  for  confidence  and  support. 

Some  leading,  settled,  authoritative  truth  is  a  treasure  to  a 
man.  The  mind  probably  does  not  know  what  it  needs  while  it 
is  without  it,  but  it  soon  feels  that  it  is  stronger  and  firmer  the 
moment  that  it  is  gained.  A  thought  once  fully  examined  and 
weighed  and  approved,  whose  soundness  is  acknowledged,  whose 
value  is  unquestioned,  whose  place  is  fully  established,  becomes 
from  that  moment  a  standpoint  for  the  soul;  other  thoughts  come 
to  its  confessional  for  approval  or  advice ;  like  a  magnet  it  draws 
the  scattered  fragments  of  other  thoughts  around  it,  binding  them 
to  itself  and  to  each  other,  giving  them  a  part  of  its  own  life,  its 
own  power,  its  own  truth.  Under  such  a  thought  the  soul's  gov- 
ernment is  firm,  energetic,  full  of  life,  for  it  has  a  prerogative 
and  a  preestablished  authority  like  a  king's;  and  then  if  that 
kingly  thought  dies,  with  no  other  full  grown  and  ready  to  succeed, 
an  interregnum  must  ensue,  and  be,  as  always,  vacillating,  weak, 
and  witless. 

A  stranger's  thought  is  to  no  one  like  his  own.  He  may  adopt 
it  and  cherish  it  and  call  it  his,  but  his  blood  is  not  in  its  veins 
nor  the  stamp  of  his  likeness  on  its  features.  Not  that  we  may 
not  have  the  same  thoughts  for  the  beacon  or  the  basis  of  our  live*. 


i3o  PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [1855-56 

bat  it  mast  be  natural  and  home-bred  for  each.  You  must  not 
borrow  it  from  me,  nor  I  from  you.  Because  it  serves  your  life 
it  is  no  sign  either  that  it  will  or  will  not  serve  mine.  That  we 
mast  try  for  ourselves;  and  if  we  find  it  will  not  serve,  then 
away  with.it,  not  as  useless,  but  as  useless  for  us.  I  may  grant 
the  beauty  in  which  your  soul  as  well  as  your  body  is  dressed,  but 
that  soul  garment  of  yours  would  fit  and  would  become  me  not  a 
whit  more  than  your  body's  clothing.  Another  lesson  of  independ- 
ent thought.  I  must  have  and  must  demand  not  only  beauty 
and  sublimity  and  power,  but  fitness  and  adaptability  as  well. 

When  we  admire  the  noble  sentiments  and  high  tone  which 
pervade  Homer  and  the  old  Tragedians  and  the  other  idols  of 
classic  learning,  do  we  often  ask  ourselves,  —  How  far  we  admire 
simply  for  its  antiquity  what  we  are  meeting  every  day  embalmed 
in  modern  commonplace  and  looking  on  with  indifference;  how 
far  it  is  the  rarity  and  strangeness  of  the  treasure  found  in  such 
an  age  and  place  that  pleases  us,  and  not  its  own  beauty  and 
worth  which  delight  us ;  how  far  we  are  treasuring  in  the  desert, 
because  it  is  in  the  desert,  that  same  water  which  to-morrow  we 
shall  pass  unheeded  in  the  swollen  stream  ? 

A  spark  of  original  thought,  a  gleam  of  an  idea  which  is  his 
own,  which  he  does  not  know  to  have  visited  another  being, 
strengthens  a  man's  feeling  of  individuality,  but  weakens  his  sense 
of  race.  It  is  an  inspiring,  ennobling,  elevating,  but  not  a  social 
thing.  But  what  a  kindly  power,  what  a  warm  human  family 
feeling,  clusters  around  a  thought  which  we  find  common  to  one 
mind,  and  to  some  old  mind  which  was  thinking  away  back  in  the 
twilight  of  time.  The  common  idea  binds  us  to  that  dead  man 
with  a  friendship  of  the  soul  as  warm  and  full  and  free  as  any 
which  holds  us  to  our  living  companions.  So  when  we  recognize 
a  common  impulse,  or  rule  of  life,  or  instinct  of  love  and  hate, 
we  most  feel  humanity  in  its  spirit  bearing  witness  with  our 
spirits  that  it  is  the  offspring  of  a  common  divinity.  When  I 
find  the  great  and  poor,  and  wise  and  weak,  of  all  ages,  just  such 
in  some  point  as  I  am  to-day,  I  cannot  be  an  atheist.  Hence  the 
value  of  books.  What  a  power  is  in  them !  What  cosmopolites 
they  are  and  make  of  us !  Hence  the  beauty  and  the  use  of  a 
perfect  biography,  the  perfection  of  a  perfect  book.  It  consoles 
our  weaknesses,  for  it  casts  them  on  humanity ;  it  destroys  our 
boasts  and  vanities,  for  it  shares  them  with  mankind.  It  makes 
us  happier,  parer,  truer  men  by  making  us  more  human.  To 
make  a  perfect  biography  a  man's  own  self-knowledge  ought  to  be 


JET.  19-20]     THE   LATIN   SCHOOL  131 

united  to  a  stranger's  calm,  impartial,  disinterested  judgment,  a 
thing  not  likely  to  be  seen  on  earth. 

Is  it  likely  that  there  have  been  giants  in  any  days,  —  giants,  I 
mean,  in  the  sense  in  which  men  are  so  fond  of  using  the  text  in 
reference  to  their  fathers,  that  is,  intellectually?  Do  not  succes- 
sive discoveries  and  revelations  of  the  weakness  and  wisdom,  the 
institutions  and  writings  and  customs,  of  different  ages  teach  us 
that  the  allotment  and  measurement  of  genius  to  mankind  has 
been  pretty  fairly  made  ?  Dropping  out  of  view  all  that  regards 
the  wholly  undeveloped  talent,  the  "  mute  inglorious  Milton " 
part  of  the  question  (which  has  both  the  advantage  and  disadvan- 
tage of  being  utterly  unsusceptible  of  proof  either  way,  and  whose 
force  may  consequently  be  turned  both  ways),  making  due  allow- 
ance for  the  filial  reverence  of  the  young  world  delighting  to 
vaunt  and  magnify  the  intellect  of  the  old,  do  they  make  on  the 
whole  so  unequal  a  show  ?  While  we  disclaim  alike  the  power  of 
old  simplicity  or  modern  science  to  create  mental  strength,  we 
must  also  deny  alike  their  influence  to  destroy  it.  They  may  hide 
it,  they  may  turn  it  out  of  nature's  channel  into  others  unprofit- 
able for  effect  or  for  display,  but  all  this  power  of  circumstance 
will,  like  almost  all  long-continued  powers,  work  itself  at  last  to 
an  average.  We  may  recognize  what  it  is,  or  what  is  something 
far  more  powerful  than  it,  what  is  nature  and  what  is  art,  what 
is  man  and  what  is  dress,  and  then  find  that  genius  is  no  comet 
sent  at  startling  epochs  to  frighten  and  perplex  mankind,  but  the 
warm  steady  living  glow  of  an  incessant  sunlight  flowing  forever 
down  from  God's  own  throne  above,  to  the  world  which  He  loves 
and  watches  forever  here  below. 

The  general  distrust  of  the  long-undoubted  opinions  of  our  fore- 
fathers, which  is  one  of  the  strongest  characteristics  of  the  habit 
of  thought  of  the  present  day,  is  shown  nowhere  more  distinctly 
than  in  the  freedom  with  which  the  old  verdicts  of  history  which 
have  long  been  held  and  reverenced  as  settled  facts  are  criticised 
and  examined.  Bloody  Mary  has  been  the  stereotyped  phrase 
which  has  wrapped  like  a  winding  sheet  the  reputation  of  Eng- 
land's persecuting  queen.  "Obstinacy,  bigotry,  violence,  cruelty, 
malignity,  revenge,  tyranny, "  such  has  been  the  long  indictment 
which  Hume  has  drawn  against  her,  and  which  a  whole  Protestant 
world  has  been  found  ready  to  endorse.  But  what  a  life  hers 
was!  How  much  there  is  in  that  life  if  not  to  excuse,  yet  to  ex- 
plain it.  The  world  was  against  her  from  her  girlhood  up,  and  it 
was  not  strange  that  her  Tudor  spirit,  with  its  family  obstinacy 


i3i  PHILLIPS  BROOKS         [1855-56 

and  jealousy  and  spite,  set  her  at  last  against  the  world.  She 
had  seen  her  mother,  an  humble  Christian,  a  devoted  wife  and  a 
good  woman,  insulted  and  divorced  to  make  room  for  a  long  line 
of  pretty  favorites  with  half  her  sense  and  half  her  virtue.  Her 
father  had  disowned  her,  her  nation  had  disinherited  her,  her 
nobles  had  conspired  against  her.  Forbidden  the  usual  life  of  a 
young  princess,  she  had  been  left  to  brood  over  her  wrong,  to  feed 
on  her  own  melancholy  thoughts,  and  to  make  a  new  life  out  of 
that  religion  which  she  reverenced  all  the  more  as  the  religion  of 
her  persecuted  mother.  And  what  a  deep  true  pathos  there  is  in 
the  sad  story  of  her  love,  her  marriage,  and  her  wedded  life. 
What  a  faith  it  gives  us  to  believe  that  the  coldest  human  heart 
is  not  too  cold  for  love  to  live  in,  when  we  see  the  poor  weak 
fondness,  the  womanly  devotion,  the  complete  self-sacrifice  with 
which  the  stern  Mary  Tudor  gave  her  whole  life  and  soul  and 
being  up  to  the  cold,  haughty,  selfish,  despicable  Philip.  How 
she  follows  him  with  her  doting  eyes,  gives  up  for  him  all  hope 
of  popularity,  all  dreams  of  personal  advantage,  all  care  for  her 
nation's  interest,  cheats  herself  and  makes  herself  ridiculous 
before  the  world  in  her  vain  desire  to  bind  him  more  closely  to 
her  by  an  offspring.  Private  life  may  show  more  amiable,  more 
rational,  more  pleasing  pictures  of  love,  but  it  can  show  none  more 
devoted,  more  whole-souled,  more  true.  And  the  cold  king  cast 
it  all  off  and  left  her;  drew  through  her  heart  the  riches  of  her 
kingdom,  and  then  when  the  stream  was  dry,  broke  the  heart  from 
which  he  drew  it,  and  she  died,  disappointed,  disconsolate,  broken- 
souled,  a  poor  wasted  worn-out  thing.  Earth  never  saw  a  sadder 
sight.  Who  will  dare  to  say  that,  if  called  to  live  her  life,  he 
would  have  made  better  work  of  it  than  she  did  ? 

I  may  learn  from  the  general  indifference  with  which  I  am  apt 
to  regard  the  private  acts  of  other  men  outside  of  the  narrow 
circle  of  a  few  friends,  that  my  deeds  and  words  are  not  matters 
of  such  interest  to  them  as  I  am  sometimes  apt  to  dream,  that 
they  comment  upon  them  for  a  moment  and  then  forget  what  is 
of  infinite  importance  to  me  forever.  And  so  I  may  begin  to 
ponder  less  upon  how  my  conduct  strikes  them  and  more  on  how 
my  duty  urges  me.  And  heeding  them  less  in  the  present,  I  may 
also  heed  my  own  past  less.  "Let  the  dead  past  bury  its  dead." 
Good  or  bad,  it  is  gone  now,  and  I  have  only  to  read  its  lessons 
as  far  as  I  may  learn  to  profit  and  grow  by  them ;  as  we  solemnly 
and  sadly  close  the  eyes  and  draw  the  veil  over  the  face  of  some 
dear  dead  friend,  and  go  out  into  the  world,  to  live  by  his  advice 
and  his  memory  a  better  and  purer  life. 


AT.  19-20]     THE   LATIN   SCHOOL  133 

The  realization  of  a  fact,  with  whose  terms  we  have  long  been 
familiar,  is  like  meeting  and  knowing  face  to  face  a  man  whose 
portrait  has  been  before  us  for  years.  We  knew  the  features 
perfectly,  we  had  perhaps  even  caught  the  general  expression  of 
the  face,  but  there  is  a  power  in  the  man  himself  which  no  picture 
can  have;  there  is  life  and  human  energy;  and  we  feel  that  we 
are  in  the  presence  of  a  power  that  we  had  not  known  before. 

Is  it  not  almost  time  for  some  men  to  learn  that  their  incessant 
railing  at  earthly  riches  and  power  and  learning  are  doing  far 
more  harm  than  good,  that  men  are  really  convinced  on  reasonable 
grounds  that  these  things  are  good,  worthy  objects  of  ambition 
and  endeavor,  and  that  if  they  had  higher  and  worthier  advantages 
to  offer,  their  way  to  recommend  them  must  not  be  to  decry  and 
depreciate  what  little  good  man  already  possesses?  Such  men 
may  thank  merely  the  weakness  of  their  cause  and  of  themselves 
that  their  efforts  are  not  productive  of  more  serious  effects.*  Once 
convince  men  that  wealth,  power,  and  learning  are  mean  and 
despicable  and  wrong,  and  you  have  crowned  inefficiency  and  igno- 
rance, brutality  and  stupidity,  as  the  monarch  of  our  race  forever. 

The  choice  of  a  profession  is  to  a  great  extent  the  choice  of  a 
life,  for  nothing  can  be  more  different  than  the  habits,  associa- 
tions, relations  of  life  into  which  the  different  professions  cast  us. 
By  one  single  decisive  act  all  these  are  to  be  settled  for  all  the 
future.  Up  to  the  time  of  choice  all  have  been  general,  common 
to  us  with  all  young  learning  men,  but  now  the  broad,  clear,  open 
road  breaks  and  separates;  its  paths  diverge  in  every  direction 
and  bear  all  manner  of  appearances  at  their  starting.  Which 
shall  we  take?  And  first  one  word  as  to  the  importance  and  the 
difficulty  of  the  choice.  Whatever  be  our  selection  we  shall  prob- 
ably never  know  it  if  we  are  wrong.  Our  dissatisfaction  in  the 
pursuit  which  we  have  chosen  will  not  prove  that  another  would 
have  suited  better.  And  as  to  trying  them  all  and  so  satisfying 
ourselves  of  the  wisdom  of  our  choice,  it  is  impossible  simply  be- 
cause we  have  only  one  short  life  and  not  three  or  four  to  live. 
And  again  men  who  have  made  the  choice  years  ago  are  little 
more  qualified  to  assist  us  than  we  are  to  help  ourselves.  Each 
has  tried  only  his  own  pursuit,  and  is  unqualified,  except  on  the 
general  grounds  which  we  all  possess,  to  speak  of  the  pursuits  of 
others.  If  he  has  wasted  his  life  in  trying  to  test  them  all,  he  is 
probably  all  the  less  qualified  to  speak  of  either.  Again  the  con- 
viction of  the  wisdom  of  my  neighbor's  choice  will  not  assist  me 
in  making  mine.  I  may  be  sure  that  he  is  wise  and  right  in 


i34  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1855-56 

going  to  the  bar,  and  yet  know  all  the  while  perfectly  well  that 
tin-  most  foolish  thing  I  could  do  would  be  to  stupidly  follow  him 
there,  walking  in  his  steps  because  they  are  his  steps,  not  because 
they  mark  the  pathway  for  which  I  was  made.  It  is  no  place  for 
fashion.  A  wise  man  may  follow  his  neighbors  in  the  cut  of  his 
coat,  or  the  style  of  his  manners ;  no  one  but  the  rankest  fool  will 
give  up  his  life  to  be  moulded  and  modelled  by  their  hands.  We 
must  cast  off  then,  once  for  all,  all  regard  to  the  preferences  or 
prejudices  of  our  friends  if  our  selection  is  to  be  at  all  a  wise 
one.  If  I  am  to  choose  a  life  for  myself,  which  I  am  to  live 
and  for  which  I  am  to  answer,  let  the  choice  be  really  mine,  let 
me  say  to  my  advisers :  I  receive  your  advice,  but  no  dictation. 
Without  presumption  or  vanity,  humbly,  earnestly,  and  firmly,  I 
claim  my  own  human  and  divine  right  to  my  own  life.  Likewise 
we  must  regard  not  at  all  those  professional  prejudices  which, 
magnifying  one  pursuit,  would  make  it  the  test  of  capability  for 
success  in  all.  I  have  heard  an  excellent  schoolmaster  say  (or 
heard  of  his  saying)  that  he  never  knew  a  man  who  failed  in 
teaching  to  succeed  in  anything  else.  I  humbly  believe  it  was  the 
schoolmaster  and  not  the  man  who  spoke.  I  have  failed  myself 
most  signally  in  teaching  school,  but  I  am  not  yet  quite  ready  to 
acknowledge  myself  wholly  unequal  to  all  this  wide  world's  work. 

"The  professions"  as  the  term  is  generally  used  are  three: 
Law,  Medicine,  and  Theology.  The  protection  of  a  man's  rights, 
of  his  body,  and  of  his  soul,  the  three  great  barriers  which, 
while  he  is  hedging  and  ditching  and  tilling  in  his  busy,  bustling 
fields,  are  keeping  out  the  destroying  waters  that  would  waste  him 
and  all  his  together.  Law,  the  pledge  of  man's  social  being,  the 
common  friend  that  takes  man's  hand  and  placing  it  in  his  neigh- 
bor's bids  him  trust  in  social  honor,  integrity,  and  justice,  embody- 
ing at  once  the  sternest  workings  of  human  vengeance  and  the 
purest  and  most  merciful  spirit  of  human  love,  drawing  its  charter 
from  the  holiest  source,  —  God's  eternal  law,  and  making  that 
charter  the  blessed  agent  for  smoothing  the  world's  rough  roads 
alike  for  the  clumsy  feet  of  human  governments  and  the  humblest 
steps  of  common  men  who  cannot  but  jostle  each  other  in  the 
rugged  way, —  Law, —  so  often  made  powerless  by  debased  human- 
ity, is  almighty  in  the  inherent  diversity  of  its  nature.  And  Medi- 
cine, man's  humbler  but  his  truer  friend,  more  immediately  visi- 
ble in  the  good  it  gives,  standing  by  the  sick-bed  where  the  poor 
man  lies  tossing  with  his  fever,  wiping  his  clammy  brow,  moisten- 
ing his  parched  lips,  soothing  and  calming  the  racking  of  his  ex- 
hausted frame,  man's  first  visitor  and  his  last,  the  most  direct,  the 


MT.  19-20]     THE  LATIN   SCHOOL  135 

most  efficient,  the  most  apparent,  of  his  benefactors  all  through  his 
life.  And  Divinity,  the  most  revered  of  professions  or  the  most 
despised,  which  is  either  everything  to  man  or  worse,  far  worse 
than  nothing,  either  the  most  solemn  and  the  most  Godlike  of 
truths  or  the  most  fearful  and  devilish  of  lies,  whose  very  perver- 
sions and  disgraces  and  abuses  show  its  native  worth,  the  nearest, 
dearest,  most  familiar  of  messages  from  God  to  man,  which  men 
reverence  while  they  sneer  at,  and  honor  and  worship  in  its  nature 
when  they  most  shudder  and  shrink  from  the  dresses,  all  soiled 
and  stained  and  of  the  earth,  with  which  it  sometimes  claims  that 
it  is  clothed,  —  surely,  looking  at  the  three  thus  in  their  purest 
and  whitest  abstraction,  this  last  is  not  unworthy. 

"Poetry  has  been  as  serious  a  thing  to  me  as  life  itself;  and 
life  has  been  a  very  serious  thing ;  there  has  been  no  playing  at 
skittles  for  me  in  either.  I  never  mistook  pleasure  for  the  final 
cause  of  poetry;  nor  leisure  for  the  hour  of  the  poet.  I  have 
done  my  work,  so  far,  as  work,  not  as  mere  head  and  hand  work 
apart  from  the  personal  being,  but  as  the  completest  expression  of 
that  being  to  which  I  could  attain,  and,  as  work,  I  offer  it  to  the 
public ;  feeling  its  f aultiness  more  deeply  than  any  of  my  readers 
because  measured  from  the  height  of  my  own  aspiration,  —  but 
feeling  also  that  the  reverence  and  sincerity  with  which  the  work 
was  done  should  protect  it  in  the  thoughts  of  the  reverent  and 
sincere. " 

These  words  are  taken  from  Mrs.  Browning's  preface  to  the 
first  American  edition  of  her  poems.  They  contain  the  English 
poetess's  own  introduction  of  the  fruit  of  her  life's  work  to  a 
strange  nation  to  which  she  comes  asking  for  sympathy  and  re- 
spect, for  admiration  not  of  herself,  but  of  what  she  admires  and 
of  what  the  devotion  of  her  own  life  has  convinced  her  is  worthy 
of  devotion  of  the  life  of  every  living  man.  In  these  few  lines 
we  have  the  key  to  the  spirit  of  every  poem  in  the  volumes  which 
they  introduce.  We  say  of  every  poem,  and  say  it  consideringly. 
For  there  is  no  poet  that  we  can  recall  through  the  whole  range 
of  our  English  poetry  who  has  so  distinctive  a  character,  and  who 
lives  so  constantly  in  that  character,  as  Mrs.  Browning.  The 
great  reality,  sincerity,  and  significance  of  all  life  is  what  is 
always  weighing  on  her  heart  and  pressing  at  her  lips,  and  when 
poetry  for  a  moment  unveils  the  heart  or  opens  the  lips,  it  is  this 
which  always  breaks  forth  into  verse.  Knowing  then  thus  much 
of  the  general  aim  and  scope  of  Mrs.  Browning's  works  we  may 
settle  one  or  two  points  at  once.  She  will  not  be  a  popular,  that 
is,  a  people's  favorite.  You  will  not  find  her  books  well  worn  and 


136  PHILLIPS  BROOKS         [1855-56 

read  in  the  homes  of  common  men,  for  common  men,  in  spite  of 
all  that  we  may  wish  and  hope  and  dream,  are  not  yet  ready  for  a 
spirit  like  this.  They  dimly  catch  faint  glimpses  of  it  at  happy 
moments  when  the  God  that  is  in  them  breaks  forth,  and  is  hardly 
seen  before  it  dies  back  again,  and  all  is  so  dark  that  we  begin  to 
doubt  again  as  before,  whether  it  is  there  at  all ;  but  they  do  not, 
and  we  must  own  cannot,  yet  make  a  life  of  it  and  fill  their  exist- 
ence with  its  power  and  energy ;  and  till  they  can  do  this,  and 
have  been  doing  this  for  some  time,  they  cannot  relish  the  poetry 
in  which  this  life  is  the  all  in  all. 

Again,  this  kind  of  poetry,  we  may  judge,  will  not  find  great 
favor  with  those  persons  who  object  to  seeing  the  poet  in  his 
works,  who  admire  Shakespeare  because  there  is  not  Shakespeare, 
but  universal  manhood  in  his  poems.  Now  Mrs.  Browning  is  her- 
self in  her  poetry  from  the  first  line  to  the  last.  Devotion  and 
sincerity  like  hers  are  personal,  individual  things,  belonging  to 
each  man  and  each  woman  apart  from  all  other  men  and  women, 
coinciding,  if  they  coincide  at  all,  by  accident  and  not  by  agree- 
ment. Individuality  then,  a  distinct  refined  personal  character,  is 
stamped  on  all  her  works.  The  strength  of  her  thoughts  is  strong 
because  they  are  peculiarly  her  own,  no  less  her  own  because 
others  have  thought  the  same. 

The  "Sonnets  from  the  Portuguese,"  read  consecutively  and 
carefully,  are  most  beautiful.  They  give  us  new,  fresh,  ever  more 
intimate  views  of  their  author's  character  and  experience.  Then 
read  in  connection  with  them  Mr.  Browning's  dedication  of  his 
"Men  and  Women  "  to  his  wife,  and  you  have  the  other  side  of 
the  picture.  The  whole  is  complete.  We  see.  the  deep  love  of 
two  souls  as  capable  of  the  best  and  truest  love  as  any  two  that 
breathe. 

Shelley  at  the  age  of  seventeen  writing  "Queen  Mab  "  seems  to 
me,  whatever  we  may  think  of  the  Beligion,  the  politics,  and  the 
ethics  of  that  poem,  to  be  one  of  the  most  remarkable  sights  on 
which  we  can  ponder.  It  is  not  merely  a  boy  of  genius,  like  Chat- 
terton  or  Byron  or  Keats.  It  is  a  boy  man  with  all  a  boy's  fire 
and  young  strength  and  young  zeal  and  all  a  man's  earnestness  of 
purpose  and  belief.  I  must  say  the  blasphemy,  for  we  must  use 
the  word,  of  that  strange  poem  has  done  more  to  make  me  a  Chris- 
tian than  many  a  wise  homily.  How  he  stands  with  his  young 
face  intent  to  seize  all  the  great  converse  of  God  and  Nature  which 
is  ever  speaking  between  Earth  and  Heaven.  And  O,  how  sad  to 
see  him  catching  only  Nature's  half  of  the  dialogue  and  thinking 
earnestly,  indignantly,  that  he  has  heard  the  whole,  and  then  with 


JET.  19-20]     THE   LATIN   SCHOOL  137 

all  the  martyr  spirit  of  a  Huss,  madly  crying  to  religion  and  gov- 
ernment, and  commerce  and  marriage  and  God,  that  they  are  utter 
lies.  I  do  not  envy  the  man  who  can  read  the  poem  and,  through 
all  his  horror  at  the  sacrilege,  and  disgust  and  disapproval  of  the 
false  morality,  false  logic,  false  history,  and  false  hopes  that  fill 
it,  not  feel  a  thrill  of  honor  and  pity  and  love  for  the  poor,  pure, 
world- wretched  man  who  wrote  it.  How  many  men  there  are 
who  have  no  truer  light  than  he,  but  who  can  be  content  in  dark- 
ness, which  he  could  not,  who  want  only  his  depth  of  feeling  and 
height  of  genius  to  be  what  he  was. 
Thursday  evening,  August  14,  1856. 

Of  the  "  Revolt  of  Islam  "  it  seems  to  me  to  be  the  purest  con- 
ception and  embodiment  of  his  creed  as  conceived  and  embodied 
by  the  purest  soul  that  ever  believed  in  the  power  of  mere  human 
love  and  joy  and  virtue  to  regenerate  the  world.  And  the  great 
answer  to  his  theory  seems  to  be  just  where  he  was  too  pure  to 
find  it,  in  his  own  purity.  Laon  and  Laone  hardly  lived  in  the 
earth,  or  even  the  stuff  of  which  Laon  and  Laone  might  be  made, 
outside  of  the  mind  of  Shelley.  The  creed  then  which  they  could 
make,  and  which  should  then  guard,  guide,  and  comfort  them,  was 
a  creed  for  them,  not  for  mankind.  Not  that  Christianity  is  less 
pure  than  Shelley's  love-and-joy  religion.  The  purity  that  was 
in  him  I  take  to  be  precisely  that  which  is  in  the  religion  of 
Christ;  only,  the  great  common  sea  of  love  and  peace  and  joy 
for  man  he  had  heaped  into  two  separate  mountains  for  his  own 
private  disappointments,  disgusts,  and  cruel  persecutions  to  pass 
through.  The  soul  then  which  Christianity  has  made  strong 
enough  to  separate  Shelley  the  pure,  honest  lover  of  truth  and 
virtue  may  make  this  poem,  I  think,  a  most  blessed  purifying, 
elevating  book.  I  know  but  two  pieces  in  contemporary  poetry 
so  fine  as  the  plague  in  the  tenth  canto.  Shelley's  error  through- 
out seems  to  me  too  low  an  estimate  of  man's  actual  and  too  high 
a  faith  in  man's  (unaided)  possible. 

The  last  sentence  to  the  "Prometheus  Unbound"  should  surely 
forever  entitle  the  aspirations  and  longings  of  that  poem  for  a 
purer  world  to  respect  and  reverence.  We  may  mourn  that  his 
mind  could  look  only  to  man's  own  help  to  work  out  man's  per- 
fection. We  may  wonder  how  he  could  find  a  reality  in  human 
goodness  to  which  all  his  life,  outside  himself,  was  ever  giving 
the  lie,  which  he  could  not  attribute  to  divine  beneficence,  which 
was  always  speaking  to  him  in  Nature  as  it  spoke  to  no  other 
living  soul ;  but  if  purity  of  heart,  and  earnestness  of  purpose,  and 
perfect  poetry  of  life  and  hopes  and  universal  being  be  things  to 


138  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1855-56 

honor  and  revere,  then  we  must  give  to  Shelley  full  honor  and 
esteem.  How  beautiful  is  the  report  which  the  spirit  of  the  hour 
brings  of  the  renewed  world  at  the  end  of  the  third  act,  and  all 
the  chorus  of  fresh,  natural  joy  that  burst  from  glad-souled  Earth 
and  moon  and  sea  and  spirits  in  the  noble  melody  of  the  fourth 
act.  "The  Cenci "  seems  less  his  than  either  of  his  four  great 
works,  though  the  Shelley  in  it  needs  more  study  to  show  itself  in 
it  than  in  either  of  them.  Who  would  not  give  months  of  our 
common,  stale,  dead  days  for  one  of  his  fullest,  happiest,  richest, 
silver,  spirit-crowded  days?  Of  Mrs.  Shelley  I  know  nothing 
except  from  her  notes  to  his  poems.  She  seems  a  most  disagree- 
able sort  of  body. 

"If  I  were  one  whom  the  loud  world  held  wise!  " 
So  speak  'st  thou,  Shelley,  in  thy  bitter  scorning, 
And  turn'st  thy  pale,  strong  face  to  watch  the  dawning 

Of  wisdom  on  that  world's  cold,  dull,  gray  skies. 

A  cloud  rose-fleecy  o'er  the  horizon  lies 

With  angel  sounds  from  Bethlehem's  blessed  morning; 
O  could  thy  soul  but  hear  the  mystic  warning 

As  thy  rapt  gaze  sees  its  pure  beauty  rise! 

O  man  alone  claims  not  man's  fullest  growth; 

As  in  their  pledging,  lovers  break  the  token, 
Each  keeping  half  in  witness  of  their  oath, 

Till  each  fulfil  the  word  that  each  hath  spoken. 
So  Heaven  holds  pledge  of  manhood's  plighted  troth; 

O  kneel  and  pray  God  take  thy  fragment  broken. 
Wednesday,  August  20, 1856. 

The  laws,  especially  those  of  early  nations,  consist  much  less 
of  commands  than  of  prohibitions.  Man  is  more  ready  to  do  the 
good  which  is  in  him  than  to  leave  undone  the  evil.  I  think  it 
is  more  to  his  credit  than  if  the  reverse  were  the  case;  this  shows 
a  want  of  self-restraint ;  that  would  argue  positive  malignity,  and 
predilection  for  the  wrong. 

The  great  analogies  of  nature  are  fossilized  in  the  language  of 
mankind.  The  clear  stars  give  a  name  to  the  clearness  of  an  eye ; 
the  ruddy  roses  to  the  blushing  of  a  cheek ;  and  even  in  more  lofty 
moral  things,  the  purity  of  the  evening  sky,  the  fresh  nakedness 
of  morning,  the  calm  beauty  of  summer,  and  the  stern  majesty  of 
winter  give  us  terms  and  titles  for  the  pureness,  the  energy,  the 
calm  devotion  or  majestic  duty  of  men's  lives.  The  fullest,  rich- 
est, and  yet  the  truest  of  figurative  language  is  what  the  tongue, 


MT.  19-20]     THE   LATIN   SCHOOL  139 

untaught  but  capable  of  eloquence,  learns  among  the  woods  and 
brooks  and  birds. 

Humanity  has  no  sterner  judge  than  human  nature ;  mankind 
no  stricter  master  than  man.  The  great  difficulty  of  the  contem- 
porary historian  is  to  judge  rightly  where  the  tidemark  of  time 
will  run,  how  high  the  waves  will  rise,  what  must  be  covered  and 
what  points  will  stand  out  to  tell  future  men  where  the  firm 
ground  of  his  age  once  stood.  All  that  is  to  be  remembered  must 
group  round  these  points;  all  that  can  make  its  mark  on  them 
will  tell.  The  greatness  of  the  memory  of  things  often  differs 
much  from  the  greatness  of  their  reality  in  kind.  The  great  gla- 
ciers that  went  crushing  and  crashing  and  crumbling  over  our  con- 
tinent uncounted  ages  ago  are  known  and  remembered  to-day  by 
a  few  faint  scratches  on  a  few  old  rocks.  No  historian  will  be 
perfect  till  he  shall  have  fully  learnt  the  perspective  of  history. 
Then  he  will  be  an  artist  with  his  art  complete. 

We  speak  with  enthusiasm  of  originality,  but  too  seldom  dis- 
tinguish between  its  different  kinds,  between  originality  as  a  habit 
and  originality  as  a  life.  One  sparkles  out  here  and  there  in  a 
strangeness  of  thought  or  oddity  of  action,  is  often  entertaining, 
sometimes  awakening  and  so  improving,  but  not  generally  very 
estimable.  The  other  is  a  genuineness  and  self-reliance  of  the 
whole  man.  There  may  be  no  thought  or  act  which  has  not  been 
thought  or  done  over  and  over  again  by  men  before.  The  pecul- 
iarity consists  in  its  being  home-bred  and  original  over  again, 
after  all  its  triteness,  with  this  new  man;  and  in  its  new 
strength  he  is  strong. 

For  the  individual  can  only  prove  affinity  to  Godhead  in  that 
he  bows  to  it  and  worships  it.  (Goethe,  Aus  meinem  Leben,^— 
Die  Kr6nung  Joseph  II.) 


"It  is  a  noble  sight  to  see  an  honest  man  cleave  his  own  heart 
in  twain  and  fling  away  the  baser  part  of  it."  (Reade,  Never 
too  Late  to  Mend,  vol.  i.  p.  51.) 

Let  us  cultivate  and  reverently  cherish  the  honest  indignations 
of  our  nature,  for  they  are  the  life  and  fire  that  is  in  us.  God 
has  given  them,  and  the  man  is  most  happy  who  has  them  the 
warmest,  the  truest,  the  least  wrenched  by  prejudice,  the  least 
dulled  by  sense  and  sin. 


Ho  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1855-56 

The  mind  that  never  consciously  repeats  itself,  that  finds  fresh 
thoughts  and  feelings  always  prompt  when  fresh  occasions  rise, 
never  having  to  go  back  and  take  old  dresses  and  recut,  refit,  and 
make  them  over  to  suit  new  needs,  is  blessed  of  God.  It  is  hard 
to  have  to  look  to  old  emergencies  to  meet  the  new  exigencies  of 
life,  demanding  of  the  past  not  only  memories  and  teaching  which 
it  owes  us,  but  also  the  present  powers  and  present  resources  which 
the  present  ought  to  furnish. 

With  what  care  we  should  cherish  each  waking  thought  that 
bears  a  trace  of  nobleness  or  purity  or  strength,  tend,  foster,  and 
watch  it,  "for  by  so  doing  many  have  entertained  angels  un- 
awares." It  may  be  our  angel.  We  may  soon  see  its  bright 
wings  unfold  and  the  bright  smile  of  heaven  spread  over  its  face, 
and  it  may  take  our  hands  and  lead  us  over  the  rough,  hard  road, 
giving  us  hope  and  strength  and  purpose,  when  without  it  all  would 
have  been  despondency  and  weakness. 

In  these  youthful  musings  intended  for  no  eye  but  his 
own,  where  he  first  betrays  the  evidence  of  some  inward 
religious  experience,  it  does  not  appear  that  he  was  con- 
fronted by  speculative  or  intellectual  difficulties,  but  mainly 
with  a  moral  issue,  where  a  great  act  takes  the  precedence, 
—  the  submission  and  consecration  of  the  will.  We  may 
speak  of  this  moment  as  the  beginning  of  his  conversion,  for 
he  liked  the  word  and  used  it.  It  was  said  of  Lacordaire, 
that  "on  the  day  of  his  conversion  he  was  already  at  heart 
a  priest."  Phillips  Brooks  was  struck  by  the  passage  when 
he  read  it,  for  of  him  also  it  was  true,  that  from  the  begin- 
ning of  his  conversion,  he  was  already  at  heart,  however 
imperfectly  he  may  have  realized  it,  consecrated  to  the  work 
of  the  Christian  ministry.  Beyond  this  statement  of  a  vague 
purpose  slowly  maturing  it  is  not  possible  to  go,  in  seeking 
to  determine  the  time  and  the  motive  of  his  choosing  the 
ministry  as  a  profession.  It  may  be  that  the  idea  had  flitted 
before  him  in  childhood  under  his  mother's  influence,  who, 
above  all  other  things,  desired  that  this  should  be  his  calling. 
The  impressive  picture  upon  the  boy's  fancy  of  Dr.  Vinton  in 
the  pulpit  may  have  led  him  in  half -unconscious  ways  to  feel 
that  he  would  like  to  follow  the  same  profession.  There  are 
possible  allusions  to  this  preference  while  he  was  still  in  the 


JET.  19-20]     THE   LATIN   SCHOOL  141 

Latin  School.  But  when  he  entered  Harvard,  and  his  soul 
opened  up  to  the  richness  and  complexity  of  the  problem  of 
life,  such  a  vision  seems  to  have  faded  away,  if  indeed  it 
had  ever  taken  any  deep  hold  of  his  imagination.  Some  of 
his  classmates  and  friends  in  college  were  surprised  when 
they  learned  of  his  choice  of  a  profession,  but  others  were 
not.  There  are  traditions  of  talks  with  his  fellow  students, 
to  whom  it  seemed  like  throwing  one's  self  away  to  enter  the 
Christian  ministry.  This  fear  he  undoubtedly  shared  him- 
self, and  it  left  its  influence  upon  him.  It  was  a  new  and 
fresh  surprise  to  him  all  his  life  long  that  the  ministerial 
profession  instead  of  reducing  or  limiting  the  range  of  full 
and  diverse  human  interests  was  a  perpetual  enlargement  of 
the  scope  of  one's  being.  He  never  spoke  to  young  men  on 
this  subject  in  later  years  without  telling  them  how  full  and 
free,  how  inexpressibly  rich,  was  the  clerical  calling.  But 
all  this  was  yet  to  come  to  him  in  the  slow  course  of  years. 
That  the  reverse  might  be  true  was  the  danger  that  haunted 
him  in  this  first  crisis  of  his  religious  experience. 

There  is  the  tradition  of  conversation  with  a  classmate,  as 
they  took  a  long  walk  together  one  Sunday  afternoon.  His 
friend  represented  to  him  how  the  church  and  the  clergy 
were  holding  aloof  from  the  great  humanitarian  movement 
which  called  for  the  abolition  of  slavery.  To  represent  to 
Phillips  Brooks,  in  whose  blood  was  the  Puritan  motive 
and  the  transcendent  desire  for  reforms  which  should  benefit 
humanity,  that  the  church  was  no  longer  in  sympathy  with 
these  reforms,  or  was  lagging  behind  in  the  race,  was  a  forci- 
ble appeal  to  throw  in  his  life  with  the  more  direct  humani- 
tarian crusade  against  the  evils  of  the  time.  But  against 
this  appeal,  which  made  its  impression,  there  was  some  inward 
protest;  it  could  not  be  the  whole  truth;  and  despite  his 
misgiving,  he  persisted,  listening  to  other  voices,  to  some 
inward  call  as  yet  dimly  interpreted. 

One  other  incident  in  this  waiting  period  from  February  to 
October,  in  1856,  remains  to  be  mentioned.  He  went  at  last 
to  call  upon  Dr.  Vinton,  to  ask  what  steps  should  be  taken 
by  one  who  proposed  to  study  for  the  ministry.  According 


i42  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1855-56 

to  his  own  report  of  the  conversation  at  a  mnch  later  time, 
Dr.  V  i  n t on  said  to  him  that  it  was  customary  to  have  received 
confirmation  before  becoming  a  candidate  for  orders,  and 
also  remarked  that  conversion  was  generally  regarded  as  a 
prerequisite  for  confirmation.  To  this  Phillips  Brooks  re- 
plied that  he  did  not  know  what  conversion  meant.  But  Dr. 
Vinton  was  a  wise  man,  of  great  experience  in  the  cure  of 
souls,  a  man  also  who  could  rise  above  the  conventionalities 
of  religion  or  translate  into  his  own  dialect  the  manifestations 
of  the  religious  life,  however  diverse  or  inadequate  their 
expression.  He  approved  of  the  plan  to  study  for  the  minis- 
try, and  recommended  the  seminary  of  the  Protestant  Epis- 
copal Church  at  Alexandria  in  Virginia  as  the  place  where 
the  preparation  should  be  made.  Phillips  Brooks  seems  to 
have  left  home  suddenly  for  Virginia  some  weeks  after 
the  term  had  opened.  Beyond  his  father  and  mother,  he 
took  no  one  into  his  counsels.  To  one  who  remonstrated 
with  him  for  his  want  of  confidence  in  not  telling  his  friends 
of  the  step  he  contemplated,  he  wrote  in  reply:  "Please  let 
all  that  matter  drop.  I  said  scarcely  anything  to  any  one 
about  it  but  Father  and  Mother.  Consider  me  here  at  the 
seminary  without  debating  how  I  got  here."  The  only  light 
thrown  on  this  event  is  a  short  note  by  Dr.  Vinton,  without 
other  importance  than  that  of  a  contemporary  voice  in  the 
silence :  — 

TEMPLK  PLACE,  October  31, 1856. 

MY  DEAR  SIR,  — Not  hearing  of  Phillips 's  call  on  Monday 
I  supposed  that  he  might  have  postponed  his  departure  till  my 
return. 

His  note  reached  me  at  Pomfret,  but  too  late  for  an  answer  by 
the  time  that  he  named.  If  he  has  gone  will  you  forward  to 
him  the  enclosed  notes  to  Dr.  Sparrow  and  Dr.  May?  I  am  glad 
to  be  once  more  at  home  with  my  family  to  resume  regular  duties. 

Congratulating  devoutly  yourself  and  Mrs.  Brooks  on  the  an- 
swer to  your  prayers  for  your  dear  son,  and  praying  with  you  that 
he  may  be  a  burning  and  shining  light  in  the  ministry  to  which 
he  is  called,  I  am  very  faithfully 

Tour  friend  and  pastor,         ALEX.  H.  VINTON. 

WM.  O.  BROOKS,  ESQ. 


JET.  19-20]     THE   LATIN   SCHOOL  143 

These  are  the  words  with  which  Phillips  Brooks  closed  the 
brief  record  of  his  thoughts  on  the  eve  of  his  departure  for 
Virginia :  — 

"As  we  pass  from  some  experience  to  some  experiment, 
from  a  tried  to  an  untried  scene  of  life,  it  is  as  when  we  turn 
to  a  new  page  in  a  book  we  have  never  read  before,  but  whose 
author  we  know  and  love  and  trust  to  give  us  on  every  page 
words  of  counsel  and  purity  and  strengthening  virtue." 


CHAPTER  V 

1856-1857 

THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  AT  ALEXANDRIA,  VIRGINIA.  NA- 
TURE AND  EXTENT  OF  HIS  READING.  EXTRACTS  FROM 
HIS  NOTE-BOOK 

"!T  is  the  five  years  after  college  which  are  the  most  deci- 
sive in  a  man's  career.  Any  event  which  happens  then 
has  its  full  influence.  The  years  which  come  before  are  too 
fluid.  The  years  which  come  after  are  too  solid."  This 
deliberate  utterance  of  Phillips  Brooks,  in  speaking  of  his 
friend  Richardson,  the  eminent  American  architect,1  im- 
poses a  certain  obligation  on  his  biographer.  He  could  not 
have  thus  spoken  of  Richardson  if  he  had  not  been  aware  of 
the  importance  of  these  years  in  the  history  of  his  own  life. 
For  this  reason,  the  story  of  his  experience  in  the  Latin 
School  has  been  given  at  some  length,  as  well  as  what  is 
known  of  the  time  which  elapsed  between  his  resignation  as 
an  usher  there  and  his  departure  for  Virginia.  For  this 
reason  it  seems  necessary  to  trace  with  some  minuteness  the 
career  of  the  theological  student  when  he  was  laying  the 
foundations  of  his  future  greatness.  The  materials  for  this 
portion  of  his  life  are  most  ample,  as  will  appear  in  the 
course  of  the  narrative. 

For  some  reasons,  not  quite  easy  to  explain,  there  is  often, 
times  embarrassment  and  even  trial  connected  with  the  tran- 
sition  from  college  to  the  theological  seminary.  Into  this 
trial  there  enters  a  sense  of  shame,  the  mauvaise  honte,  it 
might  almost  be  called,  which  is  peculiar  to  Christianity  as 
compared  with  other  religions.  The  Mohammedan  or  the 
Buddhist  is  not  troubled  in  this  way  when  making  his 

1  Cf.  The  Harvard  Monthly,  for  October,  1886,  and  Essay*  and  Addrettet,  by 
Phillips  Brooks,  p.  485. 


.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY     145 

prayers,  and  indeed  is  quite  willing  to  be  seen  of  men; 
whereas  Christianity,  and  Protestantism  more  particularly, 
cultivates  the  inwardness  of  religion,  and  even  the  conceal- 
ment of  professions  or  of  acts  of  devotion,  the  shutting  of  the 
door  to  the  secret  prayer,  whose  influence,  however,  is  to  be 
seen  openly. 

The  theological  student  seems  to  defy  this  sentiment.  He 
is  separating  himself  from  other  men  for  a  religious  pur- 
pose. It  appears  like  ostentation,  as  though  he  proclaimed 
himself  more  religious  than  his  fellows.  To  enter  a  theo- 
logical school  somewhat  resembles  the  admission  to  a  monas- 
tery in  the  Middle  Ages,  and  something  of  the  surprise  and 
obloquy  which  attached  to  the  one  attaches  to  the  other. 
Then  there  is  the  further  difficulty  that  in  this  case  the  culti- 
vation of  religion  is  connected  with  one's  future  support,  so 
that  the  question  rises  in  the  student's  mind,  and  he  is  sure 
also  in  the  minds  of  his  quondam  companions,  whether  he  is 
sincere,  or  may  not  be  thinking  of  the  material  gains  of  life. 
There  is  an  artificial  standard  set  up  for  behavior,  till  a 
young  man  becomes  sensitive  and  self-conscious.  How  will 
this  or  that  act  or  remark  strike  those  without,  and  who  are 
watching  his  career  to  see  if  there  is  any  change.  He  has 
mingled  freely  with  his  college  mates,  as  one  of  them,  with- 
out distinction ;  has  been  popular  with  all  alike,  or  has  been 
at  liberty  to  choose  his  companions ;  now  he  is  to  be  shut  up 
with  a  few  with  whom  he  is  to  be  identified.  He  wonders 
what  kind  of  men  he  shall  encounter. 

There  are  other  difficulties  also  of  a  grave  kind.  The 
college  world  is  more  universal  in  its  tone  and  aspiration ;  its 
teachers  seek  for  truth  and  may  address  a  wide,  almost  world- 
wide constituency.  But  the  theological  teacher  is  regarded, 
and  too  often  it  is  true,  as  working  in  the  interest  of  a  sect; 
and  if  he  speaks  his  voice  is  rarely  heard  outside  his  own 
communion.  The  student,  who  has  hitherto  been  free,  must 
now  study  and  learn  to  defend,  and,  if  need  be,  shout  for 
the  shibboleths  of  a  party.  Young  men  who  have  hitherto 
been  united  in  a  common  aim  become  conscious  of  the  sense 
of  separation.  There  is  a  feeling  that  it  is  not  natural,  or 


i46  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

that  a  man  may  be  lowering  and  reducing  himself  to  a 
smaller  man  by  the  change.  Then  again,  the  call  to  the 
ministry  is  more  apt  to  come  to  the  sons  of  unworldly  fami- 
lies, where  the  aim  has  not  been  social  ambition  or  the 
amassing  of  riches.  These  may  be  lacking  in  the  breeding 
of  the  man  of  the  world,  the  savoir-faire  upon  which  young 
men  so  often  place  too  great  a  stress,  as  a  canon  of  judgment. 
It  is  true  that  to-day,  as  of  old  and  always,  not  many  wise 
men  after  the  flesh,  not  many  mighty,  not  many  noble,  are 
called;  but  God  hath  chosen  the  foolish  things  of  the  world 
to  confound  the  wise,  and  weak  things  to  confound  the 
mighty,  and  base  things  and  things  which  are  despised  God 
hath  chosen  to  do  his  peculiar  work. 

For  these  and  other  reasons  there  are  prejudices  about 
theological  seminaries  against  which  a  young  man  must  con- 
tend who  is  called  to  the  ministry.  He  may  be  looked  down 
upon  by  his  old  associates;  he  may  even  be  in  danger  of 
looking  down  upon  himself.  If  he  be  greatly  gifted  he  will 
be  regarded  by  some  as  queer,  or  as  throwing  himself  away 
where  he  will  not  be  appreciated.  His  social  standing  may 
be  affected.  His  future  is  uncertain.  Intellectual  endow- 
ments of  the  highest  order,  which  would  meet  with  success  in 
the  world  of  affairs,  are  not  always  sure  of  recognition  in  the 
world  of  religion.  They  may  even  prove  a  disadvantage.  A 
good  voice  and  a  good  appearance  with  agreeable  manners 
sometimes  constitute  in  the  ministry  a  sort  of  stock  in  trade, 
so  that  he  who  is  without  them  suffers  in  comparison.  The 
race  in  the  ministry  is  not  always  to  the  strongest. 

These  considerations  are  mentioned  here  because  Phillips 
Brooks  was  alive  to  them  when  at  last  he  made  up  his  mind 
to  go  to  a  theological  seminary.  He  had  determined  at  least 
to  give  it  a  trial;  it  is  doubtful  if  his  determination  at  first 
went  further  than  this.  There  had  been  among  friends  and 
acquaintances  those  who  thought  he  was  throwing  himself 
away,  and  plainly  told  him  so.  He  was  more  afraid  for  him- 
self that  he  should  deteriorate  and  become  content  with  some 
lower  standard,  by  restricting  his  field  of  vision  or  action. 
He  was  afraid  that  the  reason  which  he  gloried  in  as  the 


JET.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY     147 

highest  endowment  of  man  must  be  abdicated  at  the  call  of 
authority,  as  the  primary  condition  of  theological  study. 
But  while  his  fears  and  uncertainties  were  great,  he  possessed 
already  two  supreme  qualifications,  —  safeguards  against  all 
dangers.  One  was  humility.  He  had  discarded  ambition 
and  was  willing  to  be  no  one ;  he  only  asked  to  be  useful  in 
some  ordinary  or  even  obscure  way.  There  was  also  ripen- 
ing within  him  the  consciousness  that  he  was  called  by  God, 
and  that  in  this  conviction  he  could  not  be  lessened  or 
restricted,  but  must  be  enlarged  to  the  uttermost.  Let  the 
reader  turn  to  his  Sermons  for  his  own  commentary  on  his 
inward  mood  as  he  left  home  to  begin  the  study  of  his  pro- 
fession :  — 

With  regard  to  that  time  [the  period  of  professional  prepara- 
tion], I  think  that  all  of  us  who  have  seen  many  men  will  bear 
witness  that  it  is  just  there  that  many  men  grow  narrow,  and 
from  being  broad  in  sympathies,  large,  generous,  humane,  before, 
even  in  all  the  crudity  of  their  boyhood,  the  moment  of  the  choice 
of  their  profession  seems  to  make  them  limited  and  special,  shuts 
them  up  between  narrow  walls,  makes  them  uninteresting  to  all 
the  world  outside  their  little  work,  and  makes  all  the  world  out- 
side their  little  work  uninteresting  to  them.  .  .  .  Where  shall 
the  larger  spirit  come  from?  The  spirit  of  an  act  comes  from  its 
motive.  There  must  be  a  larger  motive  then.  And  the  largest 
of  all  motives  is  the  sending  of  God,  the  commission  of  Him  who 
is  the  Father  of  us  all.  .  .  .  The  true  salvation  from  the  sordid- 
ness  and  narrowness  of  professional  life  comes  only  with  a  pro- 
found faith  that  God  sent  us  to  be  the  thing  that  we  are,  to  do 
the  work  that  we  are  doing.1 

It  must  have  been  an  exciting  and  busy  moment  in  the 
Brooks  family  when  Phillips  left  home  for  the  first  time. 
The  short  note  of  Dr.  Vinton's  indicates  that  he,  too,  was 
moved.  This  was  the  mother's  first  call  to  this  peculiar  ex- 
perience. When  it  came  a  second  time,  in  the  case  of  her 
son  George,  she  spoke  in  a  letter  to  Phillips  of  the  pain  it 
gave  her,  and  how  it  had  reminded  her  of  his  departure 
from  home.  The  love  which  ruled  the  household  and  bound 
it  together  was  intensified  by  this  event,  so  common,  so 
1  Vol.  viii.  p.  12. 


i48  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

familiar,  and  yet  ever  new.  We  may  speak  of  these  things 
because  no  one  could  attach  more  importance  to  them  than 
Phillips  Brooks.  From  his  childhood  he  recognized  the 
"mysticity,"  as  it  has  been  called,  which  broods  over  meet- 
ing and  partings.  But  he  was  young,  not  yet  twenty-one ; 
it  was  like  going  to  a  new  world;  he  was  to  see  on  the 
way  for  the  first  time,  with  his  own  eyes,  the  places  he 
had  long  heard  of  and  had  been  eager  to  see,  the  larger 
cities  of  his  own  country.  He  had  in  him  the  making  of 
a  traveller,  and  this  was  his  first  experience.  His  face  was 
set  towards  the  future,  and  beneath  it  all  was  the  convic- 
tion, weak  indeed,  and  yet  growing,  that  God  was  sending 
him. 

From  the  time  of  his  going  to  the  theological  seminary 
there  dates  a  voluminous  correspondence  with  the  family  at 
home.  Every  week,  and  sometimes  oftener,  he  wrote  to  his 
father  or  mother,  or  to  his  older  brother.  This  was  regarded 
as  in  the  nature  of  a  fixed  engagement.  When  the  corre- 
spondence begins  there  was  lamentable  failure  on  all  sides, 
except  the  father's,  to  date  the  letters.  Perhaps  the  mother 
was  the  chief  offender,  to  whom  moments  of  space  and  time 
were  subordinate  to  spiritual  and  eternal  issues.  Phillips 
himself  was  often  careless,  heading  his  letters,  "Monday 
evening,"  or  the  day  of  the  week,  as  the  case  might  be. 
The  evil  consequences  of  this  neglect  soon  began  to  be  mani- 
fest; the  father  remonstrated,  Phillips  himself  complained, 
and  after  the  first  year's  correspondence  this  negligence  was 
in  a  measure  overcome.  The  handwriting  of  the  son  at  this 
time,  though  closely  resembling  his  father's,  was  not  equal 
to  it  in  grace  or  legibility.  It  was  uneven  in  its  character, 
sometimes  open  and  full,  sometimes  crabbed  and  small.  The 
letters  which  here  follow  describe  without  the  necessity  of 
comment  the  external  incidents  in  his  first  year  at  the  theo- 
logical seminary.  The  first  one  was  addressed  to  his  brother 
William,  and  was  written  on  the  day  of  his  arrival  at  Alex- 
andria, November  7,  1856,  giving  his  impressions  of  his 
new  home :  — 


MT.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY     149 

As  the  weary  traveller  paces  the  well-worn  deck  of  the  good 
steamer  George  Washington  on  its  billowy  course  from  Washing- 
ton to  Alexandria,  he  sees  on  a  lofty  hill  which  rises  behind  the 
latter  beautiful  town  a  large  white  brick  building.  Well,  that  's 
just  where  I  am  to-night.  If  you  go  to  the  engraving  which 
hangs  beside  your  Shakespeare  and  look  at  the  building  with  the 
cupola,  in  the  third  story,  counting  the  basement,  just  to  the  left 
of  the  largest  tree  which  intercepts  the  building,  you  will  see  a 
window.  There  's  where  I  am  writing.  Not  that  it 's  my  room. 
It  belongs  to  one  of  about  forty  new-made  friends  who  have 
taken  me  in  for  the  evening.  My  lordly  apartment  is  a  garret 
in  an  old  building  called  the  Wilderness  about  fifty  rods  behind 
this.  Its  furniture  at  present  consists  of  a  bedstead  and  a  wash- 
stand.  I  looked  in  for  a  moment,  threw  down  my  carpet  bag, 
and  ran.  I  suppose  I  've  got  to  sleep  there  to-night,  but  I  'm 
sure  I  don't  know  how.  There  seem  to  be  some  fine  fellows  here. 
They  are  very  hospitable,  and  would  kill  me  with  kindness  if  I 
would  stand  it.  They  are  about  half  from  the  North  and  half 
from  the  South.  I  'm  in  a  perfect  wilderness  of  names,  for 
they  've  been  introducing  me  all  around  and  I  shan't  know  half 
of  them  again.  I  have  seen  the  head,  Dr.  Sparrow,  who  is  a 
thin,  tall  gentleman,  with  not  much  to  say.  So  Buchanan  is  our 
next  President.  The  South  is  a  mean  and  a  wretched  country  at 
best,  so  far  as  I  have  seen  it.  The  line  seems  marked  most  plainly 
where  the  blessing  ceases  and  the  curse  begins,  where  men  cease 
to  own  themselves  and  begin  to  own  each  other.  Of  course  there 
is  nothing  of  the  brutality  of  slavery  here,  but  the  institution  is 
degrading  the  country  just  as  much.  All  the  servants  are  slaves. 
Those  in  the  seminary  are  let  out  by  their  masters  for  so  much 
a  year,  paid  of  course  to  the  master  just  as  you  'd  pay  for  a  horse 
hired.  Everything  seems  about  half  a  century  behind  the  age. 
There  is  no  enterprise,  no  life.  It  takes  forever  to  get  a  job 
done  at  all,  and  fifty  forevers  to  get  it  done  decently,  even  in  the 
littlest  things.  They  've  got  a  gong  at  the  hotel  at  Alexandria, 
but  they  don't  know  how  to  ring  it,  and  so  they  go  about  the  house 
at  meal  times  banging  away  at  it  like  a  drum,  with  a  perfectly 
hideous  noise.  I  had  a  stunning  time  in  New  York :  saw  most  of 
the  lions,  and  almost  walked  my  feet  off  all  over  the  city.  Whom 
did  father  vote  for?  Baltimore  disgusted  me  with  Fillmore.  I 
passed  through  there  while  the  fight  was  raging,  and  heard  the 
whole  town  in  an  uproar.  Philadelphia  I  liked  very  much,  so  far 
as  I  saw  it.  Washington  is  a  sort  of  a  skeleton  affair,  splendidly 
laid  out  and  about  half  grown.  The  public  buildings  strike  me 


1 5o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

M  decidedly  shabby.  The  Potomac  is  a  splendid  river;  we  can 
s«e  it  plainly  from  the  seminary,  aa  also  the  Capitol  and  monu- 
ment, etc.,  at  Washington.  The  seminary  has  about  100  acres 
of  ground,  mostly  covered  with  oak  and  hickory.  The  cedar  and 
locust  trees  are  very  plenty  in  this  neighborhood.  I  had  to  get 
my  watch  put  twenty  minutes  back  in  Washington,  which  con- 
vinced me  that  I  was  getting  some  way  from  home.  It  is  about 
three  miles  to  Alexandria,  and  a  very  pleasant  walk.  I  am  a 
stronger  Fremont  man  than  ever,  since  seeing  Buchanan  and  Fill- 
more  States,  and  know  nothing  that  I  would  not  do  to  change  the 
result.  The  only  hope  now  is  that  he  will  make  things  bad 
enough  to  call  forth  a  louder  and  wider  indignation  at  the  next 
election.  I  really  want  to  tell  you  all  about  the  place,  and  so  I 
do.  I  had  a  game  of  "base  "  this  afternoon  with  my  new  friends, 
but  they  evidently  didn't  think  much  of  my  performances. 
Don't  let  mother  worry  too  much.  You  may  give  her  a  kiss  on 
one  cheek  for  me  and  let  George,  if  he  is  very  anxious,  on  the 
other.  Tell  George  not  to  wait  for  a  special  answer  to  his  letter 
before  writing  again,  for  I  have  a  crowd  to  write  to  while  he  has 
only  one,  and  I  mean  each  letter  for  so  many  of  the  crowd  as  care 
to  read  it.  I  went  with  Edward  Dalton  through  all  the  horrors 
of  his  place  when  I  was  in  New  York,  and  saw  some  lovely  opera- 
tions. It  is  a  splendid  study.  I  am  really  ashamed  to  write 
more,  although  I  should  like  to  very  much,  and  so  say  good-night, 
and  am  going  over  to  the  Wilderness,  to  lie  awake  and  think  of 
you  all.  Give  my  best  love  to  Father  and  Mother,  and  believe 
me  Ever  your  affectionate  brother, 

PHILLIPS. 

Friday  morning. 

The  mails  don't  go  from  here  but  once  a  day,  and  this  won't 
start  from  Alexandria  before  to-morrow  morning.  I  have  slept 
over  night  in  my  cheerful  hole,  and  am  rejoicing  this  morning  in 
a  cold  and  a  cramp.  They  have  the  least  idea  of  New  England 
comfort  down  here  of  any  place  I  ever  saw.  I  am  in  the  room 
of  a  son  of  Bishop  Potter,  who  seems  to  be  a  splendid  fellow ;  at 
any  rate  he's  mighty  handsome.  'Tis  an  awkward  thing  this 
living  in  a  garret.  Please  tell  Father  that  since  1846  Alexandria 
has  not  been  in  the  District  of  Columbia.  It  was  then  given  to 
Virginia  with  all  on  the  west  of  the  Potomac,  which  is  now  called 
Alexandria  County. 

A  week  later,  November  14, 1856,  he  gives  his  impressions 
in  a  letter  to  Mr.  G.  C.  Sawyer:  — 


MT.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY     151 

FAIKKAX  COUNTY,  VA.,  Friday,  November  14,  1856. 

I  don't  know  whether  or  not  you  will  be  surprised  to  get  a  let- 
ter from  me  dated  in  this  funny,  out-of-the-way  place.  It  depends 
upon  whether  or  not  you  have  heard  of  my  having  settled  down 
into  what  I  suppose  is  to  he  my  life,  theology.  .  .  .  It  is  just  a 
week  ago  to-day  that  I  reached  here,  and  I  have  hardly  yet  got  set- 
tled. I  received  your  letter  some  weeks  before  I  left  Boston,  and 
was  so  busy  getting  ready  to  be  off  that  I  really  had  not  time  to 
answer  it  then,  but  now  I  am  looking  for  everybody  whom  I  have 
any  claim  to  write  to,  for  an  answer  to  a  letter  is  a  perfect  boon 
in  this  remote  place.  You  will  find  on  consulting  your  map  the 
dirty  little  city  of  Alexandria,  about  seven  miles  down  the  river 
Potomac  from  Washington,  and  about  two  miles  back  from  the 
river  behind  Alexandria,  on  a  high  hill  in  the  woods,  stands  this 
institution.  It  is  a  lonely,  desolate  sort  of  a  place,  with  about  forty 
students,  of  whom  as  yet  I  know  two.  It  is  beautifully  situated, 
overlooks  the  river  and  Washington,  to  say  nothing  of  that  little 
mudhole,  Alexandria.  I  am  beginning  to  buck  into  Hebrew 
pretty  slowly,  and  like  it  extremely.  It  is  the  queerest  old  lan- 
guage I  ever  saw.  I  live  almost  entirely  by  myself,  see  little 
or  nothing  of  the  other  students,  who  seem  to  be  an  extremely 
good  but  not  particularly  interesting  set  of  young  men.  I  ima- 
gine they  don't  think  much  of  me.  The  course  here  is  three 
years.  I  suppose  I  shall  stay  that  time.  The  country  and 
weather  here  is  glorious.  I  never  saw  such  moonlight  nights  in 
all  my  life.  But  the  people  are  wretched,  shiftless,  uninterest- 
ing, lazy,  deceitful.  I  suppose  it  is  one  of  the  best  places  to  see 
the  sad  effects  of  slavery  on  the  white  population,  degrading  and 
unmanning  them.  I  don't  feel  much  like  saying  anything  of  the 
election  [of  Buchanan].  The  people  around  here  are  delighted 
with  the  result,  and  crowing  and  exulting  as  if  they  had  saved 
the  land.  There  are  crowds  of  slaves  about  here ;  very  many  of 
them,  however,  are  hired  from  other  parts  of  the  State,  and  from 
other  States,  of  their  masters.  They  are  a  jolly-looking  set  of 
people.  ...  I  have  spent  considerable  time  since  I  have  been 
here  over  in  Washington  sight-seeing.  There  is  ever  so  much  to 
look  at,  and  next  month,  when  Congress  is  sitting,  it  will  be  very 
lively.  At  present  it  is  dull  enough  so  far  as  company  is  con- 
cerned. I  have  just  been  invited  to  join  a  students'  party  in 
a  sailboat  to-morrow,  down  the  river  to  Mt.  Vernon,  and  am 
going,  but  expect  it  will  be  mighty  slow.  It  is  as  unlike  college 
as  anything  can  be.  .  .  .  And  now  having  said  all  I  can  think 
of  about  myself,  as  usual,  I  can  give  you  half  a  page.  How  goes 
Greek  and  Latin  and  the  great  profession  ?  Are  you  settled  to 


1 5a  PHILLIPS  BROOKS         [1856-57 

it  for  life,  or  may  yon  not  some  day  find  your  way  into  a  greater 
and  better  profession?  Let  me  know  what  you  are  about.  It 
takes  so  long  for  letters  to  go  and  come  that  I  shall  expect  yon 
to  answer  this  posthaste  as  soon  as  you  receive  it,  particularly 
when  you  consider  my  state  of  dreariness  off  here  in  the  Virginia 
woods.  I  saw  Sanborn  shortly  before  I  left  Boston,  and  had  a 
long  walk  with  him  one  Sunday  afternoon.  He  was  still  hopeful 
about  election.  I  wonder  how  he  feels  now.  He  said  that  if 
Buchanan  was  elected  he  went  in  dead  for  a  dissolution  of  the 
Union.  Did  you  see  the  account  of  the  riot  in  Baltimore  on 
election  day  ?  I  came  through  there  on  that  day,  and  the  whole 
city  was  in  an  uproar.  I  stayed  there  about  an  hour,  and  was  ear- 
nestly importuned  to  vote,  in  spite  of  non-residence  and  everything 
else,  many  times.  I  shan't  go  near  Mr.  James  Buchanan's  in- 
auguration, although  it  is  so  near. 

A  few  words  about  the  political  situation  in  these  years 
1856-1859  may  throw  light  upon  the  allusions  in  the  letters 
which  will  follow.  In  1856  the  Republican  party  had  held 
its  first  National  Convention,  when  John  C.  Fremont  had 
been  its  nominee  for  the  presidency.  Phillips  Brooks  was 
not  yet  old  enough  to  vote,  but  he  understood  the  issues,  and 
was  a  strong  partisan  supporter  of  Fremont.  Buchanan, 
the  candidate  of  the  Democratic  party,  was  elected  mainly  by 
the  Southern  States,  the  only  Northern  States  voting  for 
him  being  Pennsylvania,  New  Jersey,  Indiana,  and  Illinois. 
It  was  therefore  upon  the  South  that  the  new  administration 
depended.  In  its  first  year,  1857,  the  famous  Dred  Scott 
decision  had  been  made  by  the  Supreme  Court,  to  the  effect 
that  a  negro,  according  to  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States,  was  not  a  citizen,  but  was  property  which  might  be 
carried  as  such  to  any  part  of  the  territories  subject  to  Con- 
gress. This  decision  had  created  consternation  in  the  North, 
for  it  made  void  the  Missouri  Compromise  (1820),  which  had 
allowed  Missouri  to  come  into  the  Union  as  a  slave  State,  but 
had  made  the  line  of  the  southern  border  of  Missouri  the 
limit,  north  of  which  slavery  should  be  prohibited.  South  of 
that  line  slavery  was  to  be  allowed  to  extend  as  each  new  State 
might  determine.  In  1857-1858  the  excitement  ran  high 
over  the  case  of  Kansas,  whether  it  should  become  a  free  or 
a  slave  State.  Each  side  poured  its  colonists  into  the  Terri- 


.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY     153 

tory  preliminary  to  the  final  vote  which  should  determine  its 
fate.  In  1858  the  free  state  constitution  had  been  adopted 
by  a  large  majority,  constituting  a  great  victory  for  Northern 
sentiment.  John  Brown  of  Kansas  had  taken  part  in  this 
attempt  to  prevent  the  introduction  of  slavery,  and  carried 
out  of  himself  by  the  fervor  of  his  hatred  for  slavery,  he  had 
gone  to  Virginia  with  the  object  of  creating  an  insurrection 
in  order  to  the  liberation  of  the  slaves.  On  October  17, 
1859,  he  seized  the  United  States  arsenal  at  Harper's  Ferry. 
His  purpose  was  defeated ;  he  was  arrested,  and  after  a  short 
trial  condemned.  His  execution  on  the  gallows  took  place 
December  2,  1859,  where  he  died  with  great  dignity.  These 
years  saw  events  rapidly  moving  towards  civil  war.  Lincoln 
was  beginning  to  be  known;  he  had  engaged  in  debate  with 
Douglas,  who  represented  some  attempt  at  compromise  of  the 
issues  of  freedom  and  slavery,  while  Lincoln  committed  him- 
self to  the  cause  of  freedom.  In  1857  a  severe  financial 
depression  began  which  caused  great  suffering.  The  Con- 
gress which  Phillips  Brooks  looked  in  upon  at  Washington 
was  engaged  in  lowering  the  tariff  as  a  means  to  financial 
prosperity. 

These  events  as  they  happened  were  prominent  in  his  mind 
during  the  time  that  he  was  studying  theology  in  Virginia. 
What  was  going  on  in  the  country  at  large  was  reproduced 
on  a  smaller  scale  among  the  students  in  the  seminary  at 
Alexandria,  who  were  about  equally  divided  in  sentiment 
regarding  the  questions  of  the  day. 

During  the  first  year  of  his  residence  at  the  seminary, 
judging  from  his  letters,  he  was  restless  and  discontented  and 
chiefly  anxious  to  get  away.  It  was  the  familiar  malady  of 
homesickness.  The  change  was  too  great  for  him  from  the 
home  and  centre  of  the  Puritans  to  a  country  which  held  in 
no  respect  the  Puritan  traditions,  where  manners  and  cus- 
toms were  strange  and  repugnant.  He  felt  keenly  the  differ- 
ence also  between  the  standards  of  Harvard  College  and  the 
instruction  offered  by  a  small  school  poorly  endowed,  where 
he  was  also  without  books  or  periodical  literature  to  enable 
him  to  feel  in  contact  with  the  larger  world.  We  may  listen 


iS4  PHILLIPS  BROOKS         [1856-57 

to  him  now  as  he  speaks  confidentially  his  mind,  in  language 
often  too  strong,  a  defect  surely  calling  for  allowance  under 
the  circumstances.  The  letters  tell  us  much,  but  are  far 
from  revealing  the  full  situation,  as  will  be  seen  before  he 
closed  his  course  of  study.  If  he  seems  to  speak  too  severely 
of  the  Alexandria  seminary,  yet  he  afterwards  took  it  to  his 
heart,  as  having  furnished  him  with  the  most  important 
experience  of  his  life.  If  he  makes  fun  of  it,  that  was  his 
way  of  admiring,  also,  for  he  applied  the  same  rule  all  his 
life  to  whatever  he  came  in  contact  with.  And  again,  he 
was  laid  up  twice  with  illness:  once  soon  after  he  reached 
Virginia,  by  a  lame  foot,  and  then  by  trouble  with  his  eyes, 
which  for  some  weeks  prevented  his  using  them.  All  these 
things  combined  made  the  family  at  home  anxious,  and  led 
his  mother  to  propose  a  visit  to  Washington  in  order  to  see 
the  real  situation.  With  this  introduction  we  return  to  the 
letters :  — 

Tuesday  evening. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  have  this  evening  been  blessed  with 
a  score  of  letters,  receiving  them  at  once,  —  one  which  ought  to 
have  got  here  last  night,  containing  fifteen  dollars,  whose  receipt 
I  hereby  acknowledge  and  thank  yon  for  very  much.  I  have  not 
told  you  more  about  things  because  I  can't.  It 's  the  most  shift- 
less, slipshod  place  I  ever  saw.  The  only  stated  expense  is  $100 
per  annum  for  board  in  commons.  We  all  dine  together  in  a 
large  low  room  down  cellar.  It  seems  cheap,  but  I  assure  yon 
it 's  quite  as  much  as  it 's  worth.  Besides  that  we  have  expenses 
for  fuel,  some  articles  of  furniture,  lights,  washing,  and  sundries. 
I  have  as  yet  got  half  a  cord  of  wood  for  $3.00.  I  think  I  shall 
have  to  get  a  new  stove,  and  if  I  do  shall  burn  coal.  It  'a 
cheaper.  For  washing  I  pay  $2.00  a  month.  I  have  not  yet 
bought  a  lamp,  but  burn  candles  at  present.  Have  bought  no  fur- 
niture excepting  a  pair  of  curtains  for  $1.00.  The  instruction  here 
is  very  poor.  .  .  .  All  that  we  get  in  the  lecture  and  recitation 
rooms  I  consider  worth  just  nothing.  .  .  .  My  last  letters  have 
been  so  long  that  I  am  really  getting  a  little  short  for  matter. 
Ask  William  if  he  considers  my  ten  pages  answered  by  his  brief 
though  excellent  epistle  of  last  week.  I  went  to  church  four 
times  on  Sunday,  besides  twice  to  prayers.  Was  n't  that  pretty 
well?  .  .  .  Tell  Mother  I  would  send  her  a  lock  of  my  hair 
with  pleasure,  but  the  fact  is  I  got  it  cut  last  Saturday  in  Wash' 


MT.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY     155 

ington,  and  besides  that  I  can't  spare  any.  I  can't  find  a  lock 
long  enough  to  cut.  .  .  . 

From  your  PHILLIPS. 

P.  S.  Tell  Mother  not  to  feel  too  bad  that  this  isn't  ad- 
dressed to  her.  When  she  sends  me  fifteen  dollars  I  '11  write  her 
a  stunning  letter. 

Monday  evening,  November  25,  1856. 

DEAR  BILL,  —  I  must  really  beg  your  pardon  for  having  neg- 
lected for  so  long  to  answer  your  letter,  but  I  rather  thought 
you  'd  write  again,  and  I  thought  I  M  lump  them  and  answer  them 
together,  but  I  think  now  that  I  won't  wait  any  longer,  but  write 
you  a  few  lines  to-night,  just  to  let  you  know  I  haven't  forgotten 
you.  You  seemed  quite  in  the  dumps  when  you  wrote.  Have  you 
got  over  them?  I  wish  you  could  get  into  my  comfortable  posi- 
tion for  a  few  minutes  and  then  see  how  you  would  feel.  If  that 
didn't  teach  you  to  be  contented  with  your  lot  nothing  would. 
When  are  you  coming  on  here,  —  at  Christmas  time,  or  do  you 
wait  till  inauguration?  Why  can't  you  come  at  Christmas,  and 
we  can  have  great  times.  I  wrote  to  Mother  this  morning.  Tell 
her  not  to  worry  about  my  sickness,  for  though  not  very  cheerful 
work  there  's  nothing  dangerous  about  it,  and  I  am  a  good  deal 
better  to-night.  I  hope  you  '11  have  a  jolly  Thanksgiving  Day. 
I  spent  mine  in  Washington,  and  this  sickness  is  to  pay  for  it. 
...  I  thank  you  very  much  for  the  Tennyson  which  came  in  my 
box.  If  you  did  n't  read  the  copy  you  sent  me  you  'd  better  get 
another  and  read  it  right  away.  I  am  ashamed  to  stop  here,  but 
my  position  is  painful,  all  cramped  up  here,  and  it  is  so  hard  to 
write  with  my  foot  up  in  another  chair  that  I  must  really  break 
off  to-night. 

Tuesday  morning. 

I  will  add  a  few  lines  this  morning  to  the  shabby  letter  that 
I  wrote  last  night.  I  feel  a  good  deal  better  to-day,  and  if  it 
wasn't  rainy,  I  might  possibly  get  about  a  little.  I  tell  you  it 
takes  down  a  man's  spirit  to  be  cooped  up  in  this  desolate  sort  of 
a  way.  ...  Of  course  you  won't  expect  any  news  from  this  out- 
of-the-way  hill ;  at  any  rate  I  've  none  to  give.  I  do  nothing 
all  day  but  study,  and  see  no  one  from  morning  to  night.  I  am 

rejoiced  to  hear  in  Mother's  letters  that  Mrs.  is  coming  to 

stay  at  Dr.  May's  this  winter.  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  anybody 
that  I  ever  saw  before.  I  don't  think  I  have  spoken  to  a  lady 
since  I  left  the  Old  Colony  depot  in  Boston,  and  hardly  expect  to 
before  I  get  back  there  again.  Will  you  kindly  lay  all  the  defi* 


156  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

ciencies  of  my  letter  to  the  circumstances  of  my  situation,  and  as 
soon  as  I  am  well  I  will  try  to  do  a  little  more  creditably.      In 
the  meanwhile  let  me  hear  from  you,  and  believe  me 
Your  affectionate  brother, 

PHILLIPS  BROOKS. 

Tell  Mother  that  the  doctor  has  just  been  here  and  says  that 
all  is  going  right.  I  shall  be  out  to-morrow  or  next  day.  P.  B. 

Tuesday  evening,  November  26,  1856. 

DEAR  TOP,  —  I  need  hardly  say  that  the  piece  of  news  of 
which  I  was  made  the  confidant  in  your  last  letter  took  me  almost 
completely  by  surprise.  I  did  not  expect  it.  None  of  those  swift- 
footed  rumors  which  will  always  get  the  start  of  facts  in  such 
matters  had  breathed  a  whisper  of  it  in  this  far-off  place.  The 
truth  stood  before  me  in  a  flash  with  all  its  startling  suddenness. 
Top  Sawyer  was  engaged !  If  it  had  come  from  any  other  source 
I  would  n't  have  believed  it,  but  I  see  no  corner  now  for  a  doubt 
to  crouch  in,  and  I  must  yield  to  conviction  that  it  must  be  true. 
But  really  it  is  something  more  than  a  mere  duty  matter  to  offer 
you  my  most  sincere  congratulations  on  this  event.  I  do  indeed 
rejoice  in  your  prospects  of  a  happy  life,  and  most  earnestly  wish 
you  joy  in  all  the  circumstances  of  your  new  connection.  These 
are  not  mere  form  words.  I  do  honestly  congratulate  you,  and 
thank  you  for  your  confidence  in  trusting  your  secret  to  me.  In 
general  I  am  not  good  at  secret-keeping,  but  yours  shall  be  most 
religiously  preserved  till  you  give  me  leave  to  divulge.  From 
present  appearances  it  will  be  some  time  before  I  have  a  chance 
to  reciprocate  your  confidence,  but  when  the  time  comes  you  may 
depend  on  my  doing  so.  I  welcome  you  most  heartily  Into  the 
family.  My  genealogical  knowledge  is  not  sufficient  to  trace  the 
connection  of  Miss  Gorham's  to  our  race.  I  have  written  inquiries 
home,  and  you  shall  have  the  result.  My  maternal  grandmother, 
who  died  in  May  last  in  North  Andover,  Mass.,  was  a  daughter 
of  Honorable  Nathaniel  Gorhara  of  Charlestown,  and  that  must 
be  where  the  cousinship  comes  in.  Will  you  present  my  respects 
to  Miss  Gorham  as  a  relation? 

I  am  laid  up  at  present,  and  have  been  for  the  last  week,  with 
a  lame  foot,  which  makes  things  pretty  cheerless  in  this  strange 
place.  I  hope  to  be  out  now  by  day  after  to-morrow.  I  am  work- 
ing on  pretty  well  in  the  Hebrew.  We  begin  with  Conant's  edi- 
tion of  Gesenius's  Grammar,  and  soon  begin  to  read  in  Genesis. 
.  .  .  The  immense  plans  of  labor  and  study  which  I  find  laid  out 
in  your  letters  are  rather  startling  to  one  who  has  not  yet  wholly 
laid  aside  the  habits  of  a  not  very  active  college  course. 


.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY     157 

The  impudence  with  which  a  man  of  your  penmanship  finds 
fault  with  anybody  else's  writing  is  merely  contemptible.  I  hope 
I  said  nothing  in  my  last  to  make  you  think  that  I  dislike  my 
station  here.  I  do  like  the  place,  the  studies,  and  the  profession 
very  much,  and  better  every  day.  Our  friends  who  were  to  have 
sailed  in  the  Lyonnais  had  a  narrow  escape.  Did  Sanborn  write 
you  anything  about  my  coming  here?  If  so  will  you  tell  me 
what?  I  have  my  reason  for  wanting  to  know;  that  is,  if  there  's 
no  harm  in  your  telling  me.  .  .  .  Write  soon,  and  you  shall  have 
a  speedy  answer  from  Your  friend, 

PHILLIPS  BROOKS. 

November  28,  1856. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  .  .  .  Last  Friday  evening  Professor  

gave  a  party  to  our  class,  and  I  went  as  a  sort  of  duty  matter 
because  he  called  at  my  room  while  I  was  laid  up.  There  were 
twelve  students  and  three  ladies,  the  latter  being  apparently  rather 
a  scarce  article  in  these  parts.  We  stayed  from  7.30  till  twelve, 
and  altogether  it  was  not  remarkably  pleasant. 

I  have  not  got  an  armchair  yet.  I  bought  one  and  paid  for  it 
in  Alexandria,  but  could  not  get  a  man  to  bring  it  out  for  two 
days,  and  so  the  storekeeper  in  true  Virginia  style  sold  it  over 
again,  and  then  seemed  to  think  it  a  particular  favor  when  he  con- 
sented to  refund  the  money.  I  am  getting  a  new  stove,  which 
will  be  a  saving  in  the  end,  for  the  little  trap  I  found  here  burns 
an  enormous  quantity  of  wood  with  very  little  heat.  ...  I  am 
very  sorry  to  hear  from  Mother  that  you  think  you  cannot  come 
on  at  Christmas.  I  wish  you  could,  and  hope  still  you  can,  for 
I  think  there  would  be  much  about  here  that  you  would  enjoy 
seeing.  .  .  . 

There  had  been  suspicions  rife  at  Alexandria  and  in  the 
seminary  of  a  threatened  insurrection  among  the  negroes, 
which  had  led  to  some  manifestations  of  ill  feeling  on  the 
part  of  the  Southern  students  against  those  who  came  from 
the  North.  The  latter  had  probably  been  active  in  teaching 
the  negroes  to  read  and  write,  or  had  held  religious  services 
for  them. 

Thursday  evening,  December  18, 1856. 

DEAR  FATHER,  — ...  The  affair  of  which  I  spoke  in  that 
letter,  although  it  seems  pretty  certain  that  it  was  all  a  ground- 
less panic,  is  having  a  bad  effect.  It  has  excited  much  jealousy 
among  the  Southern  students  and  the  town  people  against  the 


158  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

Northerners.  One  Northern  student,  who  has  held  a  meeting 
once  a  week  for  the  servants  of  the  seminary  and  the  neighbors, 
has  received  notice  that  it  must  be  given  up,  or  he  will  have  to 
suffer.  .  .  .  Another,  who  has  preached  some  in  the  neighborhood, 
has  been  informed  that  there  was  tar  and  feathers  ready  for  him 
if  he  went  far  from  the  seminary.  And  in  general  they  have 
been  given  to  understand  that  their  tongues  were  tied  and  they 
were  anything  but  free.  A  pretty  style  of  life,  isn't  it?  .  .  . 
Most  truly  and  affectionately, 

PHILL. 

The  late  Rev.  R.  C.  Matlack,  who  was  at  this  time  a 
member  of  the  seminary,  writes  of  this  affair :  — 

The  "dear  old  seminary  "  was  not  a  very  comfortable  place 
then  for  anti-slavery  men,  such  as  a  few  of  us  were,  especially 
if  we  exercised  and  claimed  the  right  of  free  speech.  When  one 
of  our  fellow  students  was  notified  that  he  would  be  "tarred  and 
feathered  "  if  he  did  not  leave,  Phillips  stood  nobly  by  him,  and 
declared  that  the  men  of  the  North  must  all  leave  together  and 
publicly  declare  their  reasons  for  withdrawing,  unless  they  were 
assured  of  protection  and  the  liberty  of  free  speech.  A  petition 
was  sent  to  the  faculty,  and  what  we  asked  was  granted ;  and  even 
public  discussions  were  allowed  in  " Prayer  Hall."  Shivery  was 
thoroughly  reviewed  in  its  political,  moral,  and  religious  aspects, 
and  leading  Southern  men  frankly  acknowledged  that  they  had 
known  but  little  of  the  animus  of  the  institution  [slavery]  until 
they  heard  these  discussions ;  their  views  and  feelings  were  greatly 
modified. 

The  Christmas  holidays  were  spent  in  Virginia,  but  were 
enlivened  by  a  visit  from  his  mother  and  his  brother  Wil- 
liam. Just  before  they  were  to  start,  however,  he  tele- 
graphed them  not  to  come,  and  in  a  letter  following  the  tele- 
gram he  explained  what  he  fears  they  may  have  regarded  as 
a  strange  proceeding  on  his  part.  The  letter  shows  one 
striking  personal  peculiarity,  his  great  susceptibility  at  this 
time  to  the  influence  of  the  weather.  Nor  does  he  seem  to 
have  outgrown  it  until  several  years  later.  Most  of  his  let- 
ters contain  allusions  to  the  weather ;  there  may  have  been 
something  conventional  in  these,  or  inherited,  for  his  father 
always  notes  the  weather  in  his  journal.  But  there  was 
something  more,  —  a  very  sensitive  constitution  responding 


JET.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY     159 

to  every  change  in  atmospheric  conditions,  made  miserable, 
even,  and  incapable  of  work  by  a  hopelessly  rainy  day.  The 
next  letter  shows  an  abnormal  sensitiveness  to  the  cold  for  a 
boy  who  had  lived  in  Boston :  — 

Monday  evening1,  December  23,  1856. 

DEAR  FATHER,  — I  am  afraid  a  telegraphic  dispatch  which  I 
sent  you  early  this  morning,  advising  Mother  and  William  not  to 
come,  reached  you  too  late  to  accomplish  its  purpose. 

I  will  explain  the  reasons  of  what  may  seem  to  you  a  strange 
proceeding.  In  the  first  place  we  are  having  a  spell  of  the  cold- 
est and  most  disagreeable  weather  imaginable.  The  river  is  frozen 
tight,  and  all  communication  between  Alexandria  and  Washington 
is  cut  off  by  a  very  uncertain  line  of  omnibuses  which  run  only 
once  or  twice  a  day.  The  roads  are  rough  and  stiff  with  ice, 
so  altogether  you  see  it  is  not  a  time  to  think  of  coming  here. 
Again,  Congress  adjourns  on  Wednesday  till  after  the  New  Year, 
and  as  I  suppose  William's  principal  object  was  to  be  present  at 
their  sittings  I  did  not  wish  him  to  be  disappointed.  I  am  in 
hopes  he  may  have  seen  it  in  the  papers,  and  so  of  himself  deter- 
mined not  to  come.  And  then  the  state  of  the  river  precludes 
all  chance  of  a  visit  to  Mt.  Vernon,  which  I  suppose  was  another 
of  his  principal  inducements.  The  cold  did  not  set  in  till  yester- 
day, or  I  should  have  sent  before.  I  hope  they  got  the  message, 
and  will  not  think  it  wrong  or  strange  that  I  sent.  I  have  not 
engaged  their  rooms,  but  shall  be  on  hand  at  the  cars  to-morrow 
night,  if  it  is  possible  to  get  to  Washington.  If  they  do  not 
come,  then  I  shall  stay  one  night  at  W.,  so  as  to  be  on  hand 
Wednesday  morning.  Willard's  and  the  National  are  the  same 
price,  and  the  former  is  slightly  the  better  house.  Mr.  Wise, 
whom  I  asked  about  it,  thinks  he  may  get  me  some  rooms,  and 
will  try  to-morrow.  Tou  see,  I  consider  it  an  equal  chance  that 
they  do  or  do  not  come,  and  make  arrangements  for  both  chances, 
though  for  their  sake  I  must  say  I  hope  they  won't.  I  think  I 
may  have  something  from  you  at  the  telegraph  office  to-morrow 
morning.  To-night  is  colder  than  ever.  I  think  my  last  must 
have  quieted  any  fears  you  had  about  insurrections,  etc.  There 
is  now  no  danger  at  all,  and  it  seems  pretty  sure  that  there  has 
been  none,  though  at  one  time  it  looked  very  much  like  it.  I 
feel  very  anxious  to  know  whether  Mother  and  William  are  com- 
ing or  not,  and  shall  use  every  human  effort  to  be  at  the  cars  to 
see.  I  am  just  going  to  make  a  call  at  Dr.  May's. 


160  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

Eleren  P.  M  . 

Mr.  Wise  has  been  here  ever  since  seven  o'clock,  so  I  have 
not  been  able  to  make  my  call.  A  snowstorm  has  come  up  and 
the  ground  is  white  with  snow.  Yours,  P.  B. 

The  most  memorable  circumstance  connected  with  the  visit 
of  his  mother,  which  she  undertook  despite  his  warning,  was 
that  he  made  his  first  communion  on  Christmas  Day,  kneel- 
ing by  his  mother's  side  at  St.  John's  Church  in  Washing- 
ton. He  had  not  been  confirmed,  but  from  this  time  it  must 
be  inferred  that  he  was  "ready  and  waiting." 

Tuesday  morning,  January  27,  1867. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  Your  letter  of  the  22d  reached  me  in  good 
season  last  night,  and  I  write  now  to  acknowledge  and  thank  you 
for  the  $20  which  it  enclosed.  It  is  quite  sufficient  for  all  my 
immediate  wants.  I  have  just  had  a  chance,  as  one  of  the  stu- 
dents is  leaving  the  seminary,  to  buy  a  few  of  his  things  at  some- 
thing of  a  bargain,  and  so  I  thought  it  best  to  get  them,  although 
it  will  leave  me  immediately  not  quite  so  well  in  pocket  as  I 
should  otherwise  have  been.  I  have  got  and  paid  for  a  stove 
and  wood  for  the  rest  of  the  winter,  a  lamp  and  armchair,  etc.,  so 
that  I  am  now  rather  more  comfortable.  It  has  been  stinging 
cold  here.  Thermometer  as  low  as  four  degrees  below  zero  and 
the  snow  piled  in  drifts  about  the  building.  It  seems  to  have  been 
a  tremendous  storm  all  over  the  country.  .  .  .  Did  you  ever  eat 
tomato  pies  ?  They  alternate  with  boiled  rice,  which  is  troubled 
with  water  on  the  brain,  as  our  daily  dessert.  We  have  a  good 
many  novelties  in  diet.  Last  night  a  new  dish  made  its  appear- 
ance which  looked  like  a  flapjack  that  had  tried  to  be  a  loaf  of 
brown  bread  and  failed  in  the  attempt.  Personal  investigation 
was  useless,  and  we  had  to  apply  to  the  menial,  who  answered  our 
question  with,  "Them,  sir!  Yaw,  sir,  them's  flickers,"  and  so 
they  are  still  called,  an  awful  mystery  shrouding  their  nature  and 
genealogy.  .  .  . 

He  was  now  taking  steps  to  become  a  candidate  for  or- 
ders, which  seems  to  have  been  urged  as  a  matter  of  impor- 
tance by  Dr.  Vinton.  There  is  apparently  some  reluctance 
still  to  take  the  decisive  action  committing  him  to  the 
ministry  as  a  profession.  At  least  he  sees  no  reason  for 
immediate  action. 


MT.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY     161 

February  2,  1857. 

DEAR  FATHER,  — Yours  of  the  26th  just  received,  and  as  you 
desire  I  shall  mail  this  to-morrow,  enclosing,  if  I  can  get  it,  the 
necessary  certificate  from  Dr.  Sparrow.  I  suppose  you  under- 
stood me  to  say,  what  at  any  rate  I  meant  to  say,  in  my  former 
letter,  that  if  it  is  not  necessary  that  my  name  should  be  pre- 
sented now,  and  if  it  will  occasion  no  delay  to  postpone  it,  / 
should  much  prefer  that  it  should  be  put  off  for  a  time.  I  should 
think  that  Dr.  Vinton  would  really  be  able  to  tell.  However,  I 
leave  the  whole  matter  to  you  and  him.  I  suppose  you  will  have 
no  difficulty  in  getting  the  certificate  of  my  graduation  from  Dr. 
Walker,  and  shall  be  much  obliged  to  you  for  taking  the  trouble. 
I  don't  understand  your  constant  slurs  which  I  receive  from  all 
quarters  upon  the  quality  of  my  writing  paper.  It  is  the  very 
best  I  can  get,  and  costs  well.  .  .  .  The  weather  here  is  still 
cold  and  the  travelling  execrable.  I  have  had  to  go  to  Alexan- 
dria to-day  and  had  hard  work  to  get  back  again,  through  ditches, 
puddles,  and  snow  banks. 

Inauguration  time  is  getting  pretty  near  now,  and  nothing  would 
give  me  greater  pleasure  than  to  have  you  come  on  and  see  the 
Capitol  steps  desecrated.  I  wish  you  would  come,  for  I  think 
you  would  enjoy  it,  and  find  a  great  deal  to  see.  If  this  sort  of 
weather  lasts,  however,  there  is  no  great  inducement  for  any  one 
to  come  from  the  North  to  the  South,  for  in  all  my  Northern 
experience  I  never  saw  so  much  disagreeable  winter  weather  as  I 
have  seen  the  last  three  weeks.  Everything  is  wholly  unprepared 
for  it,  poor  houses,  mean  wood,  wretched  stoves,  etc.  I  had  to 
give  up  all  idea  of  getting  my  room  warm,  till  I  found  a  new 
stove,  which  answers  capitally,  but  has  left  me  a  little  short  in 
pocket.  I  am  in  hopes  now  soon  to  have  a  chance  to  engage  a 
room  in  the  new  hall,  though  we  shall  see  nothing  of  the  furni- 
ture till  the  river  opens  in  the  spring.  Love  to  all. 
From  your  affectionate  son, 

PHILLIPS  BROOKS. 

Thursday  noon. 

Dr.  Sparrow  has  been  sick,  and  I  have  only  just  now  been  able 
to  get  the  certificate.     I  enclose  it  in  a  hurry  in  this  letter. 
We  have  just  had  our  first  recitation  to  him. 

February  8,  1867. 

DEAR  TOP,  — ...  I  have  just  been  told  that  there  's  a  man 
in  Exeter  who  sells  books  at  miraculously  low  prices.  I  "heard 
tell "  that  he  asked  only  37£  cents  per  volume  for  Little  & 


162  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

Brown's  English  Poets.  How  is  this?  When  is  your  independ- 
ent school  going  to  start,  and  where?  If  a  reference  to  "a  well- 
known  and  distinguished  clergyman  "  will  help  your  prospects, 
my  name  is  at  your  service.  If  the  customary  allowance  is  made 
for  ministers'  sons  you  may  count  on  the  proper  number  of  little 
Brookses  in  years  hence.  What  a  winter  we  have  had !  Rain, 
hail,  and  snow,  snow,  hail,  and  rain  ever  since  Christmas.  The 
sunny  South  is  all  a  humbug.  I  like  my  situation  here  quite 
well  —  work  pretty  hard,  read  considerably,  and  live  really  quite 
a  pleasant  life.  ...  I  am  egregiously  unpopular,  but  try  to  bear 
it  with  proper  meekness.  I  have  been  reading  Herodotus,  partly 
for  the  Greek  and  partly  for  the  story.  I  have  been  much  inter- 
ested in  him.  Dalton  writes  by  fits  and  starts ;  from  all  other 
college  communication  I  am  cut  off.  Dalton  writes  me  on  ( 'Win- 
ning's authority  that is  certainly  engaged. 

Eheu  f  ugacea,  Fortune, 
Postume,  labuntur  anni. 

I  read  "Aurora  Leigh  "  as  soon  as  it  was  out,  and  need  not  say  I 
was  enthusiastic,  as  I  have  been  over  almost  everything  that  Mrs. 
Browning  ever  wrote.  It  is  a  great  book,  the  book  of  the  year 
beyond  all  question,  so  far  as  poetry  or  light  literature,  if  it  be 
light,  goes. 

Your  stories  of  plays  at  the  Pudding  come  to  me  like  memories 
of  good  dinners  that  I  ate  and  digested  long  ago.  I  shall  hope 
to  see  something  of  the  kind  next  summer  when  I  am  on,  till  then 
Hebrew  and  moral  philosophy  must  be  my  diet.  Hebrew  is  a 
tough  old  tongue,  as  independent  as  these  thirteen  United  States, 
so  that  no  little  previous  knowledge  of  any  other  language  helps 
one  out  at  all  in  his  dealings  with  it.  Inauguration  is  now  close 
at  hand.  Will  you  come  and  see  the  old  wretch  crowned?  I 
can  put  a  bed,  and  knife  and  fork,  at  your  service,  and  bid  yon 
welcome.  .  .  .  Your  friend, 

PHILLIPS  BROOKS. 

As  the  months  went  by  he  does  not  seem  to  have  become 
more  reconciled  to  his  situation.  He  now  intimates  a  desire 
to  leave  the  seminary  at  Alexandria,  and  try  his  fortunes  else- 
where in  the  two  years  that  remain  of  his  preparation  for 
the  ministry.  He  also  admits  that  if  he  were  not  twenty-one 
he  should  call  himself  homesick. 


AT.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY     163 

THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY,  Monday,  March  16,  1857. 
DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  have  been  meaning  to  write  to  you  for  a 
good  while,  but  have  kept  putting  it  off  for  one  reason  or  another. 
I  want  in  the  first  place  to  thank  you  for  the  last  money  that  you 
sent  me,  whose  receipt  I  have  already  indirectly  acknowledged 
through  a  letter  to  George.  This  is  such  an  out-of-the-way  place, 
where  one  has  to  buy  all  the  books  he  wants,  very  different  from 
Boston  or  any  city  where  you  can  get  at  libraries  or  borrow 
books.  The  library  here  is  really  worth  just  nothing  at  all.  It 
is  pretty  much  like  all  the  rest  of  the  seminary,  which  seems 
poorer  and  poorer  to  me  every  day.  I  really  begin  to  have  serious 
doubts  whether  it  will  be  worth  while  for  me  to  come  back  here 
for  two  more  years,  whether  it  won't  be  better  to  study  at  home, 
if  this  is  really  the  best  seminary  in  the  country.  .  .  .  Dr. 
Sparrow  is  so  out  of  health  that  we  seldom  see  him,  and  when  we 
do  he  is  too  unwell  to  exert  himself  at  all.  However,  there  are 
three  or  four  months  still  left  of  this  year,  and  it  will  be  time 
enough  next  summer  to  think  whether  to  come  back  here  or  not. 
We  are  having  all  kinds  of  weather  just  now,  three  snowstorms 
within  the  last  week,  but  the  snow  melts  right  away,  only  leaving 
its  traces  in  the  very  muddy  roads.  I  wrote  William  a  very 
long  letter  the  other  day,  whose  length  I  was  rather  ashamed  of 
after  it  was  sent,  but  I  thought  as  he  had  scolded  so  about  the 
meagreness  of  my  last  one  it  was  just  good  enough  for  him  to 
get  too  much  of  this.  The  recitation  bell  will  ring  in  a  few 
moments,  so  I  must  break  off  here,  remaining  affectionately 

Your  son,        PHILLIPS  BROOKS. 

Monday  evening,  April  6,  1857. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  Yours  is  just  received,  and  now  that  I  have 
two  good  long  ones  of  yours  on  hand  I  don't  know  that  I  can  do 
better  than  to  give  a  piece  of  this  evening  to  answering  them, 
particularly  as  I  feel  a  little  blue;  if  I  wasn't  twenty-one  years 
old  I  believe  I  should  say  homesick,  to-night.  It  is  a  bleak, 
chilly,  windy  night ;  we  have  been  seeing  snow  again  this  after- 
noon with  hail  and  sleet.  I  was  in  hopes  that  we  were  done 
with  that  sort  of  thing  for  this  winter,  but  this  Virginia  is  a 
wretched  place.  Have  you  seen  how  the  Virginia  papers  are 
owning  up  to  its  decay  and  deadness,  and  trying  to  patch  up  all 
kinds  of  excuses  and  remedies  for  it?  What  a  gay  life  you  seem 

to  be  living.     How  came  you  to  be  invited  to ?     Was  n't  I 

invited?  How  was  the  spread?  I  was  very  glad  to  see  George's 
letter.  Just  to  dream  of  forty-two  barrels  of  maple  sap  in  a  week ! 
How  it  goes  to  the  heart !  Why,  I  have  my  doubts  whether  the 


1 64  PHILLIPS  BROOKS         [1856-57 

whole  annual  produce  of  Fairfax  County,  Virginia,  could  fill  any- 
thing  like  that  number  of  barrels,  including  all  branches  of  agri- 
culture from  turnips  down  to  darkies.  I  wrote  to  him  last  week, 
and  hope  to  get  an  answer  with  something  of  the  Green  Mountain 
smell  about  it  before  long.  So  you  are  still  doing  the  gentleman. 
It  rather  drags,  doesn't  it?  You  know  I  tried  it  for  some 
six  months  about  a  year  ago.  I  am  glad  you  are  improving  the 
time  by  getting  over  your  supercilious  contempt  for  some  of  the 
great  writers  of  the  time.  I  refer  of  course  to  your  successful 
attack  upon  Thackeray's  "Shabby  Genteel  Story,"  which  I  believe 
everybody  allows  to  be  one  of  the  poorest  of  his  books.  How- 
ever, if  you  prefer  to  begin  at  that  end,  why,  I  have  no  objec- 
tion, and  hope  that  you  will  become  reconciled  to  the  "  New- 
comes  "  and  "Vanity  Fair"  in  time.  I  have  n't  been  yet  to 
any  of  our  new  President's  levees,  but  mean  to.  Think  some  of 
going  this  week  if  he  has  one.  In  fact,  I  have  hardly  been  in 
Washington  since  the  inauguration.  I  am  waxing  rather  lazy, 
that  is  for  me,  and  get  off  of  the  hill  very  little.  Alexandria  is 
still  there  I  believe,  and  bids  fair  to  "dry  rot  at  ease  "  till  the 
next  earthquake.  I  had  no  intention  of  raising  so  much  comment 
about  my  forthcoming  lecture.  It  is  a  very  little  affair,  and  if 
delivered  at  all  will  probably  draw  an  audience  of  somewhere  be- 
tween twenty-four  and  twenty-five  uninstructed  Virginia  farmers, 
but  it  is  very  doubtful  now,  several  of  its  predecessors  having 
been  delayed,  whether  it  will  come  off  at  all,  as  this  term  will 
probably  be  up  before  my  turn  arrives.  My  subject  is  still  fluc- 
tuating between  the  immortal  George  and  the  everlasting  Ben,  to 
which  have  been  lately  added  as  candidates  for  the  treatment 
of  my  oratory  the  notorious  Captain  J.  Smith  and  the  obscure 
N.  Bonaparte  of  Paris,  France.  Any  further  counsel  from  you 
will  be  most  acceptable  in  the  premises.  I  have  n't  read  Irving'g 
"  Washington  "  yet,  as  miscellaneous  literature  is  not  the  most 
abundant  thing  in  the  world  here  in  the  seminary.  No  one  having 
yet  offered  to  lend  or  give  it  to  me  I  must  defer  its  perusal  till 
next  summer.  Speaking  of  literature,  we  have  been  lately  try- 
ing to  get  up  a  reading-room  here,  but  it  rather  drags.  We  have 
succeeded,  however,  in  getting  some  forty  dollars  subscribed,  but 
men  don't  care  much  about  it,  and  would  n't  miss  it  if  they  never 
saw  a  review  or  newspaper  all  the  year.  Still  we  have  got  a-going, 
have  the  English  reviews,  "Black wood,"  "Putnam,"  "House- 
hold Words,"  etc.,  and  a  number  of  radical  Southern  newspapers. 
To  counteract  this  all  your  Boston  papers  which  you  send  me  are 
regularly  filed  and  hung  up  conspicuously  in  the  face  of  the  fire- 
eating  brethren.  So  you  must  consider  each  two  cents  expended 


MT.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY     165 

as  a  direct  attack  upon  the  "peculiar  institution "  in  its  own 
stronghold,  and  act  accordingly.  The  future  of  our  country  hangs 
upon  your  action  (p'r'aps).  In  this  connection  I  would  state  that 
I  have  received,  and  am,  I  hope,  duly  grateful  for,  your  "Even- 
ing Gazette,"  which  came  some  time  since,  as  also  for  a  "Tran- 
script, "  received  last  night.  This  being  their  final  destiny,  how- 
ever, it  is  perhaps  as  well  not  to  mark  the  passages  referring  to 
the  notorious  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Old  Dominion  in  ink ;  pencil 
will  do.  To  our  Southern,  and  particularly  our  Virginia  friends, 
it  may  seem  a  trifle  too  much  like  "twitting  upon  facts."  Chase 
sent  me  an  "Advertiser  "  some  time  ago  with  a  capital  article  upon 
"  Our  Retiring  President, "  using  poor  Frank  up  deliciously .  Did 
you  see  it  ?  I  regretted  being  obliged  to  return  it  with  nothing 
better  than  the  Catalogue  of  the  Theological  Seminary  of  Vir- 
ginia. 

Your  sympathetic  condolences  on  the  fast-depreciating  condi- 
tion of  my  wardrobe  are  most  gratefully  acknowledged.  I  assure 
you  that  all  the  supports  which  I  can  draw  from  moral  sources, 
from  philosophy  or  ethics,  promise  to  be  necessary  to  sustain  me 
under  my  present  and  impending  shabbiness.  Not  the  least  evil 
is  a  growing  indifference  to  personal  appearance,  which  I  have 
been  obliged  to  guard  against  by  withdrawing  from  circulation 
some  of  the  most  desperate  articles,  and  bestowing  them  upon 
greasy  and  grateful  children  of  Africa,  who  are  here  the  common 
recipients  of  everything,  from  kicks  to  coats,  that  white  people 
won't  put  up  with.  .  .  .  From  your  brother, 

PHILL. 

THEOLOGICAL  SEMIKABT,  Friday  evening,  May  8, 1857. 

DEAR  FATHER,  — I  really  cannot  help  feeling  every  day,  as  I 
told  you  a  good  while  ago,  that  this  seminary  is  not  what  it 
ought  to  be  or  what  I  want.  The  whole  style  of  instruction  and 
scholarship  is  so  very  different  in  thoroughness  and  accuracy  of 
detail  from  what  I  have  been  used  to  in  other  subjects  that  I 
can't  but  feel  it  disagreeably  every  day.  .  .  . 

Now  in  these  circumstances  I  can't  look  forward  very  cheer- 
fully to  two  more  years  here.  I  must  feel  every  day  that  I 
might  do  more  and  better  than  I  am  doing;  that  either  study  in 
Boston  or  at  some  other  seminary  would  be  far  preferable.  New 
York,  from  what  I  can  learn,  is  not  far  in  advance  of  this.  I 
am  thinking  strongly  of  Andover.  It  is  the  most  full  of  life, 
and  is  in  reality  the  place  from  which  almost  all  the  theology  of 
this  seminary  comes  at  second-hand.  Please  let  me  know  what 
you  think  of  it,  for  I  must  confess  I  am  strongly  drawn  to  it. 


i66  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

Of  course  yon  will  do  what  you  please  about  showing  this.  I  am 
urged  very  strongly  to  go  down  next  week  to  the  Virginia  conven- 
tion at  Petersburg,  and  if  my  funds  will  allow,  may  perhaps  do 
it.  I  am  told  it  is  just  the  place  to  see  Virginia  and  Virginia 
society  under  the  best  advantages.  Much  love  to  all. 

Your  affectionate  son,  PHILLIPS. 

The  theological  seminary  at  Andover  was  then  famous 
among  the  schools  for  the  prophets.  Professor  Edwards  A. 
Park  was  the  eloquent  teacher  of  theology ;  the  late  Dr.  G.  T. 
Shedd,  a  man  of  deep  and  wide  culture,  and  a  profound 
thinker,  held  the  chair  of  Church  History ;  and  the  late  Dr. 
Austin  Phelps  charmed  the  students  with  his  stimulating  lec- 
tures on  sacred  rhetoric  and  pastoral  care.  When  such 
things  could  be  had,  Phillips  Brooks  was  restless  to  be  with- 
out them.  An  appeal  was  made  to  Andover,  but  instead  of  a 
courteous  welcome  there  came  for  weeks  nothing  but  silence. 
There  is  an  allusion  to  the  work  which  he  is  driven  to  do  for 
himself  in  order  to  keep  up  his  habits  as  a  student.  What 
this  work  was,  how  important  and  how  thorough,  will  be 
shown.  At  present  we  follow  him  in  his  complaints:  — 

Monday,  Jane  1,  1857. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  will  try  to  write  some  this  morning, 
though  it  is  getting  on  to  recitation  and  I  have  n't  much  time. 
We  have  now  got  to  work  again  after  a  week's  vacation  while 
some  of  the  men  were  gone  to  Petersburg  to  convention.  I  did 
not  go,  but  spent  the  week  very  quietly  and  pleasantly  here.  I 
received  some  time  ago  your  letter  telling  me  what  Dr.  Vinton 
said  about  leaving  here.  I  have  not  decided  anything  more  yet. 
Have  pretty  nearly  given  it  up.  One  of  my  friends  here  (I 
have  n't  got  but  two)  wrote  to  Andover,  as  he  was  thinking  some- 
what of  going  there,  to  make  inquiries,  about  six  weeks  ago,  and 

in  a  very  gentlemanly  way  has  never  answered  his  letter. 

If  I  could  see  my  way  clearly  to  use  the  third  year  profitably,  I 
think  I  should  come  back  here  and  crowd  the  next  two  years  into 
•ne,  which  could  be  done  without  the  least  difficulty  by  a  little 
study.  As  for  this  year,  if  it  had  not  been  for  something  done 
outside  our  regular  course,  I  should  not  have  known  what  study 
was.  I  shall  pack  my  books  and  other  things  in  boxes  and  leave 
them  here,  so  that  they  can  be  sent  to  me  in  case  I  should  deter- 
mine not  to  return  myself.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  they  have 


MT.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY     167 

lengthened  the  term  here  to  the  10th  or  thereabouts  of  July. 
But  I  do  not  think  I  shall  stay  to  see  it  through.  I  shall  be 
very  glad  to  get  rid  of  the  public  examination,  for  I  have  had 
about  enough  of  that  sort  of  thing  heretofore.  I  think  now  that 
I  shall  start  about  the  1st  of  July,  and  probably  see  Boston  by 
Saturday,  the  evening  of  the  Fourth.  But  it 's  a  good  way  ahead 
yet.  We  have  not  yet  had  any  weather  warm  enough  to  trouble 
us  seriously,  but  I  suppose  we  must  expect  such  very  soon  now. 
The  country  is  looking  gloriously,  and  it  being  the  first  spring  that 
I  ever  really  spent  in  the  country  I  have  enjoyed  it  very  much. 
There  are  rumors  of  strawberries  around,  but  I  have  not  yet  so 
much  as  laid  my  eyes  on  any  of  them.  With  much  love  to  all, 
From  your  affectionate  son,  P.  B. 

Friday,  June  5,  1867. 

DEAR  FATHER,  — I  received  your  letter  the  other  day  just 
after  I  had  sent  off  one  to  you.  Of  course  I  was  half  in  fun 
about  what  I  said  in  Arthur's  letter  about  not  going  to  Petersburg 
because  I  was  poor.  I  merely  meant  that  I  thought  the  money 
would  be  better  spent  in  books,  etc. 

There  is  nothing  of  strict  importance  to  communicate  since 
Monday.  They  have  been  having  a  pretty  little  riot  in  Wash- 
ington, but  we  have  heard  nothing  of  it  over  here.  A  stormy 
day  to-day,  and  fires, —  I  hope  the  last  of  the  season. 

As  to  your  other  inquiry  about  how  much  more  money  I  should 
need,  —  I  have  got  in  all  bills  great  and  small,  and  as  near  as  I  can 
tell  it  will  be  (including  the  $70  for  board)  about  $110.  This 
leaves  a  liberal  allowance  for  travelling  expenses,  and  if  I  go 
straight  through,  and  nothing  happens,  I  may  bring  some  of  it 
home  again.  .  .  .  When  you  send,  I  suppose  a  draft  on  Alexan- 
dria would  be  the  safest  way.  I  still  expect  to  start  from  here 
the  first  week  in  July. 

Excuse  the  hastiness  of  this  note.  The  dinner  bell  has  rung 
and  the  potatoes  are  limited.  Love  to  all. 

Your  affectionate  son,  P.  B. 

Friday  evening,  June  19, 1857. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  received  yours  of  the  18th  enclosing  the 
check  for  $112,  which  I  acknowledge  and  thank  you  for  by  the 
earliest  opportunity.  This  makes,  I  believe,  $285  received  in 
various  ways  from  you  since  I  left  Boston.  Unless  some  unex- 
pected emergency  arises  I  shall  need  no  more  till  I  am  in  Bos- 
ton again.  When  that  will  be  remains  quite  doubtful.  Prob- 
ably not  quite  so  soon  as  I  thought  at  first.  I  shall  certainly 


i68  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

spend  three  weeks  from  to-day  with  you,  but  probably  not  two 
weeks,  though  I  should  like  to,  as  it  is  the  first  Sunday  in  the 
month.  I  shall  come  right  through  when  I  start,  making  it  as 
near  twenty-four  hours  from  Washington  to  Boston  as  possible. 

We  are  having  some  pretty  warm  weather,  though  not  a  great 
deal  of  it.  There  is  almost  always  a  thunderstorm  towards 
night,  by  the  help  of  which  and  not  a  great  deal  of  exertion  we 
manage  to  keep  tolerably  comfortable.  I  have  not  been  off  the 
hill  for  the  last  six  weeks,  but  shall  get  down  to  the  little  old  city 
to-morrow  after  my  money.  Tell  Mother  I  allow  the  whole  force 
of  her  wardrobe  argument  against  arriving  in  Chauncy  Street 
on  Saturday  night,  but  probably  can't  get  home  early  enough  in 
the  week,  without  spending  Sunday  on  the  road,  to  make  much 
difference.  .  .  . 

Dr.  at  length  answered  my  friend  Dr.  Richards 's  letter 

the  other  day  in  a  very  short,  and  very  stuffy,  and  to  my  ideas 
very  nngentlemanly  note.  He  did  n't  encourage  our  going  to 
Andover  at  all,  said  we  should  be  obliged  to  attend  the  college 
chapel,  etc.  Bishop  Potter's  son  wrote  a  letter  here  the  other  day 
about  a  new  seminary  that  his  father  is  going  to  start  in  the  fall 
in  Philadelphia.  I  think  from  all  I  can  hear  that  it  is  going  to 
be  much  better  than  this.  It  can't  be  worse.  ...  It  will  of 
course  be  somewhat  more  expensive  living  in  a  large  city,  but  I 
have  an  idea  that  by  some  kind  of  teaching  that  might  be  made 
up,  —  private  pupils  or  something  of  that  sort.  If  I  find  that 
I  can  learn  anything  about  it  in  Philadelphia  I  may  stop  there 
some  little  time  as  I  go  on.  When  I  spoke  of  putting  these  two 
years  here  into  one,  I  had  no  idea  of  studying  less  than  three 
years.  My  idea  was  that  the  last  year  might  be  spent  to  better 
advantage  somewhere  else  than  in  doing  here  what  might  have 
been  all  done  the  year  before. 

Your  affectionate  son,  P.  B. 

Jane  28,  1867. 

DEAR  TOP,  — ...  I  believe  that  I  must  own  that  you  did 
"write  last "  as  I  see  stated  in  the  Catalogue  of  your  seminary 
which  I  received  the  other  day,  and  for  which  please  accept  my 
thanks.  I  had  some  little  hesitation  in  recognizing  in  the  "Pro- 
fessor of  Ancient  Languages  "  my  former  modest  and  unassuming 
classmate,  but  the  pencil  marks  against  the  name  convinced  me, 
and  I  was  obliged  to  acknowledge  his  title,  merely  wondering 
whether  he  had  been  born  to  his  new  greatness,  or  achieved  it,  or 
perhaps  had  it  thrust  upon  him.  I  am  still  studying  theology, — 
that  is  to  say,  I  am  still  in  the  theological  school,  and  have  been 


MT.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY     169 

studying,  but  at  present  I  can  do  nothing  but  sit  and  look  at  the 
backs  of  the  books  on  my  shelves  and  try  in  that  way  to  imbibe 
whatever  theology  the  heat  may  cause  to  soak  through  their 
extremely  stupid-looking  bindings. 

It  is  most  melancholy  hot  here.  My  impression  is  that  the 
State  of  Virginia  is  rather  thin-skinned,  and  the  central  fire  that 
keeps  up  an  incessant  bubbling  and  boiling  under  our  feet  comes 
some  hundreds  of  miles  nearer  here  than  anywhere  else.  .  .  . 
I  am  in  doubt  whether  I  shall  come  back  here  next  year,  but 
rather  think  that  I  shall  conclude  to.  Of  course  you  will  keep 
on  at  Exeter. 

I  expect  to  leave  here  for  Massachusetts  in  about  ten  days. 
When  does  your  vacation  come  ?  Of  course  you  will  be  at  Com- 
mencement. I  suppose  we  shall  see  a  good  many  of  the  dear  old 
faces  there.  If  you  are  in  Boston  any  time  after  the  10th  of 
July  I  shall  be  at  home  (41  Chauncy).  ...  I  have  been  trying 
to  see  if  there  was  any  particular  point  in  your  last  letter  that 
required  especial  answer,  but  it  is  such  egregiously  bad  writing 
that  I  find  it  next  to  impossible  to  decipher.  All  I  can  discover 
is  some  satirical  allusion  to  "  Calvinists  "  and  "  Churchmen  "  in 
connection  with  Sylvester  Judd.  The  last  charge  I  am  willing 
and  ready  to  stand,  with  all  the  consequences  and  deductions  that 
you  can  logically  deduce  from  it,  but  the  first,  the  Calvinist  part, 
I  emphatically  reject  as  not  only  not  implied  in  the  second,  but 
entirely  inconsistent  with  it. 

What  are  you  up  to  this  summer?  I  expect  a  quiet  three 
months  in  or  near  Boston,  reading  a  little  theology  and  a  good 
deal  of  other  things.  I  heard  from  Dalton  not  very  long  ago. 
He  is  fast  ripening  into  a  genuine  Medical.  I  have  some  little 
hopes  of  seeing  the  mountains  in  August. 

And  so,  dear  Top,  till  I  see  your  face  again  I  am  as  ever, 

Your  friend  and  classmate,  P. 

These  letters  of  Phillips  Brooks  show  the  difficulty  he  en- 
countered in  being  transplanted  from  one  social  climate  to 
another.  The  roots  of  his  life  struck  deep  into  the  soil,  and 
to  remove  them  from  the  familiar  ground  whence  they  had 
drawn  their  nourishment  caused  serious  discomfiture.  The 
depth  of  his  affections,  strength,  and  intensity  of  the  feeling 
of  home,  reverence  for  his  own  past,  the  power  of  Harvard 
College  over  his  imagination,  his  exacting  intellectual  stan- 
dard, the  moral  sense  which  rebelled  against  human  slavery, — 
these  were  so  many  distinct  forces  which  combined  to  make 


1 7o  PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [1856-57 

this  transition  most  hard  to  endure.  But  by  the  close  of  his 
first  year  away  from  home,  he  had  begun  to  take  root  in  the 
new  soil;  the  process  of  wilting  had  been  survived;  though  he 
did  not  fully  realize  it,  the  sap  of  a  new  life  was  circulating 
in  his  veins.  He  writes,  as  we  have  seen,  to  his  friend  Saw- 
yer that  the  probability  is  that  he  will  return  to  the  Alexan- 
dria seminary  to  complete  his  preparation  for  the  ministry. 
He  had  made  friends  in  his  new  home,  who  were  a  strong 
counter-attraction  to  the  forces  of  his  college  life.  Among 
these  were  two  who  may  be  mentioned  here,  Richards '  and 
Strong,2  who  stood  by  his  side  to  the  end,  in  the  intimacy 
and  devotion  of  a  sacred  friendship.  These  friends  visited 
him  in  Boston  in  the  summer  of  1857,  where  they  were  wel- 
comed by  his  parents  and  became  household  names  in  the 
family.  Mr.  Richards  had  received  a  medical  diploma,  and 
in  his  capacity  as  a  physician  was  peculiarly  grateful  to  the 
mother,  who  felt  a  sense  of  relief  that  Phillips  would  be 
looked  after  if  he  were  ill.  She  had  an  anxious  heart,  quickly 
alarmed  at  the  rumor  of  any  insult  to  the  body. 

We  have  seen  how  Phillips  B/ooks  commented  upon  the 
new  situation  in  Virginia.  From  these  and  other  friends  we 
may  learn  what  Virginia  thought  of  him,  what  impression  he 
made  upon  the  students  with  whom  he  came  in  contact  in  the 
theological  seminary.  The  Rev.  George  Augustus  Strong 
writes:  — 

My  recollections  of  Phillips  Brooks  date  back  to  the  theo- 
logical seminary  in  Alexandria,  Virginia,  where  we  first  met  as 
students  in  the  autumn  of  1856,  nearly  thirty-seven  years  ago. 
He  came  later  than  the  rest  of  us,  two  weeks  after  term-opening, 
and,  as  all  the  good  rooms  were  taken,  was  forced  to  make  the 
most  of  poor  chances  and  the  least  of  his  inches  in  a  cramped 
room  in  the  attic.  He  received  callers  in  a  posture  one  fancied 
at  first  glance  must  be  peculiar  to  Boston.  The  absurdity  of 
putting  an  innocent  stranger  in  a  cell  he  could  n't  stand  up  in 
worked  promptly  in  his  favor,  and  better  quarters  were  soon  found 
for  him.  .  .  . 

1  Rev.  Charles  A.  L.  Richards,  now  rector  of  St  John's  Church,  Providence. 
1  Rev.  Qeorge  Augrntua  Strong,  for  some  time  Professor  of  English  Literature 
in  Kenyon  College  afterwards  rector  of  Grace  Church,  New  Bedford,  Mass. 


XT.  20-21].'   THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY      171 

We  were  classmates,  and  were  together  much  of  the  time  from 
start  to  finish.  He  never  took  very  kindly  to  Hebrew,  hut  as  a 
classical  scholar  none  matched  him.  .  .  .  The  Greek  of  the  New 
Testament  Epistles  as  he  dealt  with  it  "rejoiced  like  Enoch  in 
being1  translated."  His  rare  gifts  as  a  writer  told  their  story  in 
his  earliest  essays.  The  style  had  the  grace  of  the  after  sermons, 
a  nameless  quality  that  made  some  of  us  feel  we  must  retire  and 
begin  over  again.  There  was  much  of  the  same  trouble  with  the 
thought ;  it  never  seemed  like  yours  or  what  might  come  in  time 
to  be  yours.  The  only  cheering  thing  about  it  was  that  it  sur- 
prised the  professors.  There  was  some  dull  comfort  in  hearing 
Dr.  Sparrow  say,  "  Mr.  Brooks  is  very  remarkable ;  "  and  when 
the  time  came  for  writing  tentative  sermons,  the  last  year  of  the 
three,  the  sense  of  not  being  cut  out  ourselves  for  his  kind  of 
work,  precisely,  grew  almost  encouraging.  One  sometimes  won- 
ders how  those  "parsonet  "  sermons  would  strike  one  now.  They 
were  a  kind  of  revelation  to  us,  then,  and  our  judgments  were 
as  crude  as  our  styles.  We  called  them  thoughtful,  earnest, 
strangely  suggestive,  and  as  perfect  in  structure  as  if  shaped  by  an 
art  instinct,  obeying  a  hidden  law.1 

The  Rev.  Charles  A.  L.  Richards  writes,  in  a  tribute  paid 
to  Phillips  Brooks  after  his  death :  — 

It  was  in  October,  or  perhaps  November,  of  the  year  1856 
that  I  first  met  Phillips  Brooks.  The  term  had  already  begun 
at  the  Alexandria  seminary.  That  first  introduction  was  in  the 
dark  passageway  of  a  building  which,  I  believe,  is  no  longer 
standing,  the  main  building  of  the  seminary  group.  It  was  a 
very  plain,  brick  structure,  three  stories  high,  with  three  entries, 
having  a  front  and  rear  room  on  both  sides  of  each.  The  front 
rooms  looked  off  over  two  or  three  miles  of  broken  country,  to 
the  Potomac.  Ten  miles  away  to  the  left  lay  the  city  of  Wash- 
ington. The  front  rooms  in  one  entry  were  occupied  at  this  time 
by  students  whose  names  it  may  be  interesting  to  mention. 
Among  them  was  Henry  Wise,  the  son  of  the  fiery  cross-roads 
orator,  then  Governor  of  Virginia.  After  a  brief  career  in  Phila- 
delphia and  in  Richmond  he  died  of  consumption  early  in  the 
war.  Winslow  Seaver,  after  some  years  in  our  ministry,  went 
over  to  the  Methodists,  hoping  for  a  warmer  climate,  but  upon 
a  prolonged  experiment,  finding  the  temperature  about  the  same, 
and  the  quality  of  the  air  inferior,  returned  whence  he  had  set 
out.  The  Appleton  brothers  of  Philadelphia,  whose  external 

1  Remembrances  of  Phillips  Brooks  by  Two  of  his  Friends.  Boston.  Printed 
for  the  Members  of  the  Clericus  Club,  1893. 


I7i  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

resemblance  covered  much  distinctness  of  character,  confronted 
Luriutt  Bancroft  of  Providence,  and  Christ  Church,  Brooklyn ;  a 
man  from  whom  the  greatest  things  were  expected,  so  devout  wo« 
his  character  and  mature  his  attainments.  The  name  of  one  other 
occupant  of  the  rooms  escapes  me.  There  was  one,  however, 
somewhat  more  a  man  of  the  world  than  any  of  us,  who  presently 
accepted  the  charge  of  the  obscurest  parish  in  western  Pennsyl- 
vania, to  pass  from  there  to  Troy,  to  Boston,  and  after  a  few 
years  more  to  New  York,  where  he  is  now  favorably  known  of  all 
men  as  the  Bishop.  My  brother,  George  Augustus  Strong,  and  I 
had  opposite  back  rooms  in  the  third  story,  and  Brooks,  coming 
late,  and  finding  the  best  places  taken,  was  billeted  in  an  attic 
room  above  us,  where  he  could  not  stand  at  his  full  height.  It 
was  already  as  great,  perhaps,  as  afterwards,  but  his  frame  was 
spare  and  did  not  fill  out  to  its  full  proportions  for  some  years. 

There  were  no  very  recent  Harvard  men  then  in  the  seminary, 
and  Phillips  Brooks  came  to  us  unheralded.  I  do  not  know  that 
there  had  been  much  to  say  of  him.  He  had  stood  well  in  his 
class,  but  had  made  no  exceptional  mark.  He  had  taught  school 
for  a  few  months,  not  altogether  successfully.  He  made  no  im- 
mediate impression  on  us.  He  was  modest,  quiet,  reserved,  with 
rather  more  of  the  Massachusetts  frostiness  than  he  exhibited  in 
later  years,  after  contact  with  various  men.  He  was  in  the  class 
of  which  my  brother  was  a  member.  It  was  through  my  brother 
that  presently  I  came  to  know  him  well.  A  little  later  a  new 
hall  was  built,  some  distance  back  of  the  main  building;  those 
who  chose  drew  lots  for  the  occupancy  of  one  of  its  dozen  rooms. 
Brooks,  Thomas  Yocum,  now  of  Staten  Island,  my  brother,  and 
I  were  among  the  fortunate  ones,  and  were  henceforth  thrown 
a  good  deal  together  by  our  mutual  neighborhood  and  our  slight 
isolation  from  the  other  students. 

The  seminary  life  was  simple  and  primitive.  Many  of  us 
sawed  our  own  wood,  made  our  own  fires,  and  did  nearly  all  of  our 
own  chores.  The  driver  of  the  mail  wagon  did  our  few  errands 
and  made  our  few  purchases  at  Alexandria,  some  four  miles  dis- 
tant. Our  clothes  were  not  always  of  the  latest  cut,  nor  in  the 
freshest  condition.  We  took  our  meals,  abundant  but  not  luxuri- 
ous, in  a  basement,  half  under  ground.  There  were  coveted  seats 
by  the  stove  door,  where  one  could  turn  around  from  the  table  and 
toast  bread,  giving  the  breakfast  or  the  tea  a  relish.  Adjoining 
the  dining-room  was  Prayer  Hall,  a  large  uncarpeted  room,  with 
a  desk  and  long  wooden  benches  for  its  only  furniture.  The  ceil- 
ing was  low,  the  walls  were  whitewashed ;  I  think  no  picture  of 
any  sort  relieved  their  blank  surfaces.  Here  some  of  the  recita- 


JET.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY      173 

tions  were  said ;  here  we  met  for  prayers  and  for  a  weekly  ga- 
thering known  as  faculty  meeting,  when  a  professor  made  a  few 
remarks  bearing  on  the  cultivation  of  spiritual  life,  and  the  other 
professors  —  there  were  but  three  —  took  up  their  parable  in  turn 
and  emphasized  the  lesson.  The  talk  was  devout,  earnest,  tend- 
ing to  be  pietistic,  but  mainly  useful  and  simple.  Another  even- 
ing in  the  week  a  debating  society  met  in  the  same  place,  when 
papers  were  read,  topics  discussed,  and  criticism  offered.  Those 
criticisms  were  always  frank,  not  always  palatable.  A  student 
with  limited  intelligence,  but  a  rich  voice  and  showy  delivery,  once 
became  conscious  of  something  lacking,  and  asked  a  classmate  to 
tell  him  frankly  why,  with  his  effective  presence  and  striking  elo- 
cution, he  made  no  more  impression  as  a  speaker.  The  reply  was 
overwhelming  and  convincing.  "Why,  So  and  So,  you  don't  know 
enough.  You  don't  study  enough.  You  are  too  noisy.  Perhaps 
if  you  'd  take  more  load  on  your  cart  it  would  not  rattle  so." 

I  do  not  remember  that  Phillips  Brooks  took  any  part  in  our 
debates,  made  any  cutting  comments,  or  displayed  any  of  the 
extemporaneous  power  which  afterwards  distinguished  him.  But 
from  the  first  his  writing  stamped  him  as  no  common  man.  It 
had  the  ease  and  charm  of  a  master.  The  words  were  choice  and 
simple,  the  phrases  idiomatic,  the  sentences  brief  and  lucid,  the 
cadences  musical,  the  thought  fresh  and  ripe,  the  feeling  real. 
Some  of  us  had  fancied  we  knew  how  to  write  tolerable  English, 
but  we  learned  our  error,  and  took  at  once  a  lower  room.  We 
recognized  an  art  which  had  become  nature,  or  a  nature  which 
anticipated  the  gains  of  art.  We  saw  that  what  we  achieved  by 
care  and  painstaking,  he  far  surpassed  without  conscious  effort. 
There  may  have  lingered  something  still  of  the  overluxuriance  of 
springtime,  but  it  was  a  graceful  luxuriance,  not  a  wasteful  and 
ridiculous  excess.  Harvard  severity  of  taste  had  already  nipped 
some  straggling  shoots  and  repressed  some  exuberances.  Brooks 
loved  to  tell  how  Professor  Child  had  damped  his  pristine  ardor. 
He  had  begun  a  college  composition  by  an  elaborate  flourish  of 
trumpets,  and  had  carefully  inserted  a  purple  patch  of  which  he  was 
not  a  little  proud.  What  was  his  consternation,  when  the  paper 
came  back,  to  find  at  the  close  of  his  labored  introduction  the 
pencilled  comment,  "Begin  here."  "I  might  have  been  a  toler- 
able writer,"  Brooks  used  to  add,  "if  I  had  not  been  so  cruelly 
disheartened  at  the  outset." 

It  was  an  uninspiring  life  for  the  most  part  which  we  led  at 
the  seminary,  something  very  unlike  the  eager  throbbing  life  of 
our  great  theological  schools  to-day.  Dr.  Sparrow  was  a  broad, 
open-minded  man:  an  essentially  great  man  he  appeared  to  some 


i74  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

of  us.  To  Brooks  I  know  he  seemed  such.  But  feeble  health 
and  a  certain  sluggish  atmosphere  around  him  had  tamed  his  en- 
ergies. Virginia  was  fifty  years  behind  the  outside  world.  "I 
know  it  and  am  glad  of  it, "  said  one  of  her  sons  in  those  days. 
A  few  men,  who  were  ready  for  the  awakening  touch,  Dr.  Spar- 
row set  thinking  for  themselves,  but  a  good  many  of  the  students 
slumbered  on  in  spite  of  him.  Dr.  May  was  a  saintly  man, 
whose  conscience  did  not  extend  into  the  sphere  of  scholarship;  it 
did  not  invade  the  province  of  church  history.  His  sense  of 
fidelity  as  a  teacher  was  not  disturbed  by  his  cutting  the  leaves 
of  a  new  text-book  in  the  very  presence  of  the  class  who  were 
reciting  from  it.  It  was  to  be  presumed  that  he  was  too  familiar 
with  the  theme  to  need  special  acquaintance  with  any  new  presen- 
tation of  it.  Dr.  Packard,  who  still  survives  at  a  great  age,  was 
an  old-fashioned  scholar,  who  knew  what  had  been  said  upon  the 
knotty  points  of  his  Greek  and  his  Hebrew,  but  reserved  his  own 
opinion,  holding  it  in  such  delicate  equipoise  as  to  avoid  Massing 
the  minds  of  his  students  by  any  definite  hint  of  it,  unless  a  ques- 
tion involving  orthodoxy  came  before  him,  when  the  scales  gently 
descended  on  the  accepted  side.  There  were  no  lectures  to  sup- 
plement the  text-books.  The  recitations  were  hardly  calculated 
to  impart  knowledge;  they  seemed  designed  rather  to  betray 
how  little  we  had  acquired.  There  was  much  fervor  and  piety 
among  us,  less  enthusiasm  for  scholarship.  Good  men  were  not 
sensitive  to  failures  in  the  classroom.  There  was  little  serious 
thinking,  little  outside  reading,  either  in  theology  or  literature. 
The  library  was  small,  merely,  I  think,  a  dumping-place  for  the 
collections  of  departed  Virginia  ministers.  .  .  . 

Still,  with  whatever  imperfect  apparatus  and  unstimulating 
atmosphere,  those  who  had  a  mind  to  work  worked  on  in  their 
own  lines  with  neither  encouragement  nor  opposition.  There  was 
a  vast  deal  of  idleness,  much  frivolous  bustle,  some  party  strife 
and  windy  disputation.  But  it  was  a  free  and  secluded  life,  full 
of  precious  leisure  to  those  who  knew  how  to  get  the  sweets  of  it. 
Thoughtful  men,  whose  springs  were  in  themselves,  enjoyed  the 
judicious  neglect,  found  time  to  meditate,  to  browse  on  the  off- 
shoots of  their  own  mind,  and  put  out  roots  after  their  own  fash- 
ion. Brooks  employed  his  opportunity.  I  do  not  think  that  he 
was  then  characterized  by  the  wonderful  industry  that  utilized  in 
some  way  every  moment  of  his  later  years,  but  he  had  already  his 
rare  facility,  and  was  a  faithful  student  in  and  out  of  the  re- 
quired course.  He  had  brought  from  college  a  sound  knowledge 
of  Greek  and  Latin,  and  used  it  in  a  very  considerable  amount 
of  reading  in  the  Church  Fathers,  of  whom  by  some  unexplained 


MT.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY     175 

accident  there  chanced  to  be  in  the  library  the  Abbe*  Migne's  edi- 
tion. .  .  . 

I  do  not  think  that  Brooks  in  any  way  took  our  hearts  by 
storm  or  extorted  an  immediate  admiration  except  for  his  ability 
as  a  writer.  He  was  liked,  as  others  were.  There  was  no  special 
brilliancy  in  his  talk,  there  was  no  visible  superiority  in  his  char- 
acter to  that  of  others  about  him.  His  piety  was  real,  but  not 
demonstrative.  When  he  offered  prayer  at  any  of  our  meetings 
you  could  not  but  feel  that  God  was  very  near  and  living  to  him. 
In  his  most  serious  moments  there  was  no  appalling  gravity  about 
him.  He  was  not  perpetually  prying  into  his  own  soul  or  ours. 
He  was  alive  and  growing  and  took  it  for  granted  his  fellows 
were,  without  stopping  to  pull  up  their  roots  or  his  own  to  see. 
He  was  very  human  then  and  always.  I  do  not  remember  that 
he  told  good  stories  in  those  days.  Certainly  he  enjoyed  them. 
A  quiet  humor  bubbled  up  through  all  his  talk.  Some  of  our 
happiest  moments  were  after  the  midday  meal,  when  he  would 
often  stray  into  another  student's  room  for  a  cup  of  digestive 
coffee.  His  notion  of  that  beverage  implied  a  cup  filled  with 
lumps  of  sugar  to  the  brim,  the  strong  decoction  being  poured  into 
unoccupied  cracks  or  spaces.  Or  it  might  be  tea  made  in  a  large 
mug  covered  with  a  red  tomato-shaped  pincushion.  ...  It  is 
still  affirmed  by  survivors  of  that  potent  brew  that  tea  cannot  be 
made  without  a  pincushion  on  top  to  flavor  it.  As  it  was  imme- 
diately after  a  meal,  we  were  naturally  hungry,  and  Maryland 
biscuit,  a  much  kneaded  or  beaten  bread,  was  in  demand.  As  we 
were  all  poor  and  living  on  very  modest  allowances,  such  de- 
bauches were  not  things  of  every  day.  There  were  those  who 
insisted  that  Brooks,  with  his  reckless  consumption  of  sugar,  per- 
manently impoverished  us. 

That  such  trifles  come  to  the  front  in  my  memory  shows  how 
eventless  were  our  days.  It  was  understood  that  we  were  always 
welcome  at  the  houses  of  the  professors.  Once  or  twice  a  year, 
perhaps,  we  used  our  privilege.  It  was  our  chief  dissipation. 
As  the  chairs  were  pushed  back  from  the  tea-table,  we  sat  in  our 
places,  family  prayers  followed,  and  the  discreet  did  not  linger  too 
long  after  the  benediction.  The  roads  were  dark,  the  mud  deep, 
the  dogs  loud -mouthed,  the  neighbors  were  scattered  and  we  saw 
little  of  them.  It  was  pure  cloistral  life  for  the  most  part.  In 
one  of  Brooks 's  letters  in  the  year  that  he  outstayed  me  at  the 
seminary,  he  writes  of  "another  winter's  mental  and  moral  bleak- 
ness on  that  poor  hill, "  and  in  another  occurs  a  revealing  sen- 
tence, "  When  are  you  coming  to  see  us  ?  Leave  your  intellect 
behind;  you  won't  need  it  here." 


176  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

The  churchmanship  of  the  time  and  place  was  not  advanced. 
It  wat  a  bold  step  when  souie  of  us  ventured  to  secure  the  elec- 
tion of  Dr.  Coze  as  preacher  before  the  students  on  some  annual 
occasion.  It  was  doubted  if  the  professors  would  confirm  this 
choice,  and  it  was  undoubted  that  they  looked  a  little  askance 
upon  the  promoters  of  it.  The  ritual  was  simple  to  barrenness. 
The  music  was  a  repeated  martyrdom  of  St.  Cecilia.  A  some- 
time chorister  may  be  permitted  to  say  so.  It  was  not  uncom- 
mon for  the  professors  to  appear  in  the  chancel  in  their  overcoats, 
and  lay  down  gloves  and  muffler  in  the  font  or  on  the  commun- 
ion table.  The  architect  of  a  new  chapel  of  a  nondescript  form 
of  Gothic  had  ventured  to  relieve  the  dead  level  of  the  pews  by 
a  modest  trefoil  or  poppy-head  rising  at  the  end  of  each,  a  little 
above  the  rest.  A  lively  imagination  might  see  a  foliated  cross 
in  them.  Bishop  Meade  had  such  an  imagination.  Bishop 
Johns  had  winked  at  them,  but  the  elder  Bishop  would  not  trifle 
with  his  convictions.  He  arrived  to  dedicate  the  building.  He 
inspected  it  the  night  before.  A  carpenter  was  summoned  and 
every  poppy-head  was  laid  low  before  the  opening  service.  The 
erring  excrescences  were  treasured  in  memoriam  in  the  rooms  of 
wailing  students.  Tet  the  number  of  extreme  ritualists  proceed- 
ing from  the  Virginia  seminary,  strange  to  say,  is  small. 

I  am  trying  to  give  the  atmosphere,  the  local  color,  of  the  life 
in  which  Phillips  Brooks,  with  some  slight  impatiences,  yet  with 
substantial  happiness,  passed  nearly  three  years.  It  grieves  me 
that  of  our  close  companionship  through  two  of  those  years  so 
few  direct  details  come  back  to  me.  I  recall  occasional  walks 
with  him,  his  laugh  at  my  exhilaration  in  one  brisk  winter  tramp 
when  the  keen  air  went  to  my  head  like  wine,  and  he  was  glad  he 
had  been  with  me  all  the  morning,  and  was  therefore  sure  I  was 
not  tipsy.  He  cared  very  little  for  exercise  at  any  time,  and 
being  in  rugged  health  felt  no  need  of  it.  Some  of  us  made  a 
business  of  a  game  of  ball  daily,  to  which  the  seminary  bell  rang 
out  a  summons,  but  I  do  not  think  he  joined  us.  In  the  summers 
among  the  mountains  he  would  do  a  little  tramping,  but  he  never 
scorned  a  saddle  nor  a  seat  in  a  wagon  if  it  came  his  way.1 

The  Rt.  Rev.  A.  M.  Randolph,  Bishop  of  Southern  Vir- 
ginia, was  in  his  middle  year  in  the  seminary  when  Phillips 
Brooks  entered  it.  A  warm  friendship  sprang  up  between 
them,  which  continued  to  exist  despite  the  alienations  of  the 
civil  war,  growing  stronger  to  the  end.  Bishop  Randolph 

1  Remembrances  of  Phillips  Brooks  by  Two  of  hit  Friends,  pp.  1-14 


.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY     177 

furnishes  other  reminiscences  of  their  days  together  in  the 
seminary :  — 

I  recall  his  first  appearance  a  few  weeks  after  the  opening  of 
the  session  in  the  literary  society,  composed  of  all  the  students. 
He  rose  to  read  his  essay,  which  occupied  about  twenty  minutes. 
The  essay  was  a  description  of  the  character  of  the  Greek  in 
Roman  times  as  the  soil  upon  which  the  seed  of  Christianity  fell, 
his  intellectual  cleverness  that  made  him  the  admiration  of  his  Ro- 
man masters,  and  his  fickleness  and  his  lack  of  moral  seriousness 
which  made  him  an  object  of  their  scorn.  And  yet  Christianity 
redeemed  the  Greek,  gave  him  a  religion  of  seriousness,  of  pro- 
found convictions,  of  moral  and  spiritual  strength  and  victorious 
faith,  which  anchored  him,  and  made  a  man  out  of  him,  and  saved 
him  and  all  that  was  good  in  civilization  from  extinction.  This 
was  the  line  of  thought  in  the  essay.  When  he  sat  down  we  all 
felt  that  a  beautiful  mind  was  among  us,  and,  better  than  that,  a 
modest  gentleman  of  singular  purity  and  strength  and  sympathy. 
Whenever  he  read  an  essay  in  any  public  gatherings  or  in  the  class- 
room, the  first  impression  was  deepened,  and  before  the  year  was 
over  he  was  without  a  rival  among  us  as  a  writer  of  beautiful 
English  and  a  poetical  thinker.  We  felt  the  charm  of  originality 
in  his  thought  and  the  sympathy  in  his  voice,  which,  notwithstand- 
ing the  rapidity  of  his  utterance, —  a  defect  he  always  recognized, 
—  seemed  the  best  vehicle  for  the  expression  of  his  ideas  and  his 
feelings.  It  was  a  helpful  lesson  to  us  in  making  the  distinction 
between  genuine  originality  and  paltry  imitations  of  it. 

It  fills  out  the  picture  of  Phillips  Brooks  at  the  seminary 
to  get  the  impression  of  one  of  his  teachers,  the  venerable 
Joseph  Packard,  who  was  then  Professor  of  Biblical  Interpre- 
tations. The  following  extract  is  from  an  article  entitled 
"The  Recollections  of  a  Long  Life,"  in  the  "Protestant 
Episcopal  Review,"  April,  1897:  — 

Phillips  Brooks  came  here  as  a  communicant  from  Dr.  Vin- 
ton's  church,  and  I  first  saw  him  as  he  got  out  of  a  carriage  at 
the  seminary  gate.  He  handed  me  a  letter  from  Bishop  East- 
burn,  who,  knowing  my  brother  very  well,  wrote  to  me  instead  of 
to  Dr.  Sparrow,  the  dean,  as  was  the  proper  thing.  He  was 
ordained  deacon  in  our  seminary  chapel  by  Bishop  Meade  in 
June,  1859.  He  was  taller  than  any  of  these  three  great  men, 
and,  not  being  so  stout,  looked  even  taller  than  later  on.  I  re- 
member bringing  him  out  once  in  my  carriage,  and  he  could  not 


i78  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

comfortably  sit  up  in  it,  and  it  leant  very  much  to  his  side.  He 
asked  me  for  the  post  of  assistant  librarian,  which  was,  however, 
given  to  some  one  eke,  but  he  was  afterwards  made  teacher  of  the 
Preparatory  Department  at  a  salary  of  four  hundred  ($400)  a 
year.  ...  He  was  always  very  courteous  and  docile,  though 
then  a  profound  thinker;  never  captious  or  critical  in  class  or  in 
questions  or  discussions,  as  some  smart,  half-trained  young  men 
are  apt  to  be.  He  did  not  believe  in  demoniacal  possession,  I 
remember,  but  he  never  said  anything  against  it.  He  wrote  an 
essay  for  me  on  St.  John,  6th  chapter,  strongly  combating  Wise- 
man, who  maintained  the  Roman  Catholic  view. 

The  letters  of  Phillips  Brooks  during  his  first  year  in  the 
seminary  give  us  one  aspect  of  his  character.  But  neither 
these  nor  the  reminiscences  of  his  friends  give  us  the  whole 
man.  There  is  fortunately  a  third  source,  to  which  we  may 
turn  for  information,  where  he  reveals  himself  in  self-commun- 
ings,  as  he  had  begun  to  do  in  those  waiting  months  of  anx- 
iety and  depression,  before  he  made  up  his  mind  to  study 
theology  as  a  possible  opening  in  life. 

From  the  moment  that  he  reached  Virginia,  he  began  the 
practice  of  keeping  note-books.  They  can  hardly  be  called 
journals,  in  the  ordinary  sense;  they  are  not  exactly  com- 
monplace books,  although  occasionally  he  jots  down  items  of 
information  which  strike  his  mind  as  valuable.  As  he  gives 
these  books  no  name,  we  may  call  them  note-books.  They 
are  his  "notes  of  the  mind"  or  rather  "notes  of  the  soul," 
for  they  contain  the  evidence  of  intellectual  and  religious 
growth.  But  this  is  a  religious  life  of  no  ordinary  kind.  It 
does  not  assume  the  familiar  aspect  of  religious  meditation 
or  self-examination.  Sentiment  and  feeling  do  not  predomi- 
nate, but  rather  an  intellectual  and  ethical  tone.  It  is  a  record 
of  thoughts  that  came  to  him  by  the  free  grace  of  the  divine, 
and  not  the  result  of  any  effort  of  his  own.  So  he  seems 
to  regard  them,  as  if  floating  down  to  him  from  the  open 
heavens,  the  gift  of  God  to  his  soul. 

When  he  went  to  the  theological  seminary  he  seems  to 
have  made  a  determination  to  do  hard  and  thorough  work. 
He  had  a  misgiving  that  his  years  in  Harvard  had  not  been 
improved  to  the  utmost.  It  was  therefore  a  sore  experience 


jer.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY     179 

when  he  found  that  the  instruction  offered  in  the  seminary 
was  not  such  as  he  had  been  used  to,  or  thought  it  did  not 
offer  direction  or  valuable  result.  He  underrated  its  value : 
the  routine,  the  teaching  which  seemed  spiritless  and  second- 
hand, was,  after  all,  an  essential  condition  of  his  growth,  even 
with  its  inaccuracy  or  limitations  of  insight.  He  came  to 
see  this  clearly  enough  at  a  later  time.  His  mood  of  dis- 
satisfaction was  real,  deep,  and  slow  to  yield,  yet  there  was 
in  it  an  advantage  or  blessing  in  disguise.  It  forced  him  to 
work  for  himself,  to  take  his  theological  education  in  a  mea- 
sure into  his  own  hand.  He  was  free  to  inquire  for  himself; 
he  had  leisure  to  read  and  ponder,  above  all  to  study  himself. 
If  a  theological  seminary  offers  that  opportunity,  it  is,  for 
those  who  can  appreciate  it,  accomplishing  one  of  the  highest 
purposes  of  education. 

The  first  thing  which  impresses  one  in  turning  over  these 
note-books  is  the  capacity  shown  for  high  scholarship.  If 
that  had  not  been  so  evident  in  his  college  years  it  is  evident 
now.  In  his  classical  proficiency,  he  had  attained  a  source 
of  power  for  the  enlargement  of  his  life.  The  moment  had 
come  when  Greek  and  Latin  were  no  longer  dead  languages, 
but  were  at  his  disposal,  as  means  of  entering  into  other 
worlds  of  human  experience.  It  was  a  thrilling  moment  in 
his  life  when  this  revelation  flashed  over  him,  turning  what 
had  before  been  labor  and  drudgery  into  keenest  pleasure, 
into  the  consciousness,  as  it  were,  of  new  faculties.  Thus  in 
the  first  few  months  after  he  reached  the  seminary,  we  find 
him  reading  Herodotus  and  JEschylus,  and  among  Latin 
writers,  Plautus,  Lucretius,  and  Lucan;  of  ecclesiastical 
writers,  Augustine,  Tertullian,  and  the  Venerable  Bede. 
Tertullian  attracted  him  with  a  singular  charm,  as  though  he 
found  in  that  vehement,  passionate  soul  something  akin  to 
his  own  moods.  From  all  these  writers  he  was  making  ex- 
tracts, sometimes  in  the  original,  or  translating  as  an  exercise 
for  the  mastery  of  the  language.  Schiller's  "  Wallenstein  " 
also  attracted  him,  and  he  was  tempted  to  try  his  hand  in 
translation.  He  kept  up  his  French  by  reading  Saint 
Pierre's  "fitudes  de  la  Nature."  So  great  is  the  interest  he 


180  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

shows  in  this  line  of  linguistic  study  that  one  might  imagine 
he  had  not  wholly  resigned  his  original  purpose  to  make  him- 
self a  scholar.  He  had  special  qualifications  for  such  a  work 
in  his  gift  for  language,  in  the  pleasure  which  it  gave  him  to 
study  the  origin  of  words  and  the  minuter  shades  of  their 
meaning,  or  to  make  forcible  translations,  to  turn  the  Greek 
or  Latin  idiom  into  strong  and  racy  English. 

Next  to  the  study  of  the  classics  and  early  ecclesiastical 
writers  comes  his  devotion  to  English  literature.  He  was 
reading  so  many  books  during  his  first  year  in  the  seminary 
that  one  marvels  at  first  how  he  found  time  for  the  required 
tasks  of  daily  recitations.  Coleridge  (his  poetry  and  Bio- 
graphia),  Wordsworth  and  Shelley,  Shakespeare,  Milton, 
Robert  Browning  and  Mrs.  Browning,  Ralph  Waldo  Emer- 
son, Cowley,  Waller,  Henry  Taylor,  Landor,  Keats,  Southey, 
Johnson,  Piers  Plowman,  Chaucer,  Barry  Cornwall,  Whit- 
tier,  Sir  Thomas  Overbury,  Ossian,  Pope,  Swift,  Charlotte 
Bronte,  Kingsley,  Holmes,  Dryden,  Chatterton,  Lowell,  Car- 
lyle,  Cowper,  Shaftesbury,  Ruskin,  Jones  Very,  —  the  Salem 
mystic,  —  these  are  the  authors  into  whom  he  is  dipping  at 
will,  from  whom  also  he  is  making  extracts  in  his  note- 
books. The  quotations  he  copies  reveal  the  character  of  his 
mind,  becoming  his  own  mental  furniture.  There  is  disclosed 
here  a  veritable  hunger  to  know  the  best  thought  of  the 
world. 

There  is  another  decided  taste  revealed  in  his  reading,  — 
his  love  of  books  descriptive  of  ancient  peoples  and  their 
customs.  In  this  list  are  found  Layard's  "Nineveh  and  its 
Remains,"  Heeren's  "Nations  of  Antiquity,"  Becker's  "Gal- 
lus"  and  "Charicles,"  Wines's  "Lectures  on  the  Ancient 
Hebrews,"  Kane's  "Arctic  Explorations,"  Josephus'  "Jewish 
Wars,"  Prideaux's  "Connections,"  —  a  book  then  much  in 
vogue,  but  now  forgotten.  In  one  country  in  particular  was 
he  then  interested,  —  India,  which  he  had  long  dreamed  of 
visiting.  When  at  last,  in  1883,  he  stood  upon  its  shores, 
he  felt,  as  he  said,  that  he  had  reached  home.  The  sources 
of  his  present  information  were  "Asiatic  Researches  "  by  Sir 
William  Jones.  He  mentions  also  in  his  reading  Stirling's 


.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY     181 

"Cloister  Life  of  Charles  V.,"  Prescott's  "Ferdinand  and 
Isabella,"  and  Coxe's  "House  of  Austria." 

There  are  traces  of  English  theological  reading,  as  in  Bishop 
Butler's  "Sermons,"  Milman's  "History  of  the  Jews,"  Hey- 
lin's  and  Fuller's  histories  of  the  English  Church,  Heng- 
stenberg's  "Christology,"  Olshausen's  Commentary,  which 
yielded  many  suggestive  hints;  and  for  religious  and  devo- 
tional reading,  Kingsley's  "Sermons  for  the  Times"  and 
Huntington's  "Sermons  for  the  People."  This  is  indeed 
meagre  compared  with  his  other  lines  of  reading,  but  must 
be  supplemented  by  his  study  of  the  Church  Fathers  and  by 
the  work  of  the  classroom  with  its  familiar  and  antiquated 
text-books,  his  study  of  the  Old  Testament  in  Hebrew  and  of 
the  New  Testament  in  Greek,  and  another  work  now  hardly 
known,  Knapp's  "Systematic  Divinity."  Now  and  then,  but 
rarely,  he  jots  down  in  his  note-book  some  item  gained  from 
his  teachers. 

The  note-books  indicate  that  in  his  reading  he  kept  his 
eye  upon  one  incidental  object,  the  accumulation  of  ideas, 
of  pithy  phrases,  or  epigrammatic  statements,  and  above  all 
of  similes  and  comparisons.  These  he  put  down  in  con- 
densed form,  as  so  much  material  for  future  use.  The  rich 
and  graceful  style,  the  literary  wealth  and  suggestiveness, 
the  abounding  metaphors,  —  these  features  which  marked 
his  writings  came  by  the  hard  effort  of  years  of  preparation. 
He  had  indeed  a  native  gift  in  this  direction,  but  it  had  been 
cultivated  to  the  utmost  of  his  ability.  There  are  many  hun- 
dreds of  similes  collected  here,  which  afterwards  reappeared 
in  his  preaching.  In  this  study  of  the  simile  as  an  art,  we 
may  see  a  philosophical  method,  as  well  as  the  practical  bent 
of  one  who  had  wished  to  be  preeminently  a  teacher.  He 
quotes  from  Olshausen's  "Commentary  on  Romans"  a  pas- 
sage that  met  his  own  approval :  — 

Men  are  wont  to  say  that  parables  prove  nothing.  Neverthe- 
less comparisons  often  teach  by  depth  of  meaning  infinitely  more 
and  better  than  all  abstract  arguments,  seeing  they  are  devised 
from  nature,  the  mirror  of  the  glory  of  the  unseen  God,  living 
demonstrations,  as  it  were,  of  the  Most  High  God  himself. 


i8a  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

The  picture  given  in  this  outline  of  Phillips  Brooks's  read- 
ing, during  his  first  year  in  Virginia,  indicates  but  faintly 
the  wealth  of  its  result,  as  embodied  in  the  quotations  in  his 
note-book.     Everything  that  he  quoted  seems  to  be  richer 
and  deeper  in  its  suggestiveness  because  an  expression  of  his 
own  personality,  or  takes  on  a  new  and  larger  meaning. 
We  are  watching  here  in  the  springtime  of  a  great  genius, 
admitted  to  gaze  into  the  secret  process  of  the  making  of  a 
rare  soul.     But  of  this  process,  the  books  that  he  browsed 
over  do  not  form  the  largest  part.     They  were  the  conditions 
under  which  his  spirit  was  taking  wings  for  its  independent 
flight.     He  was  becoming  conscious  of  the  possession  of  crea- 
tive power.     His  soul  grew  stronger  within  him,  and  despite 
the  depression  shown  in  his  correspondence  he  had  moods 
of  inward  joy  and  triumph.      The  most  suggestive  fact  in 
this  connection  is  that  he  constantly  sought  expression  for 
the  exhilaration  or  the  tumultuous  excitement  of  his  spirit 
by  writing  verse.     The  first  impression  made  by  reading  the 
note-books  is  that  poetry,  and  not  preaching,  might  have 
been  his  vocation.     He  was  awakening  to  the  beauty  of  out- 
ward nature;  his  soul  thrilled  at  some  exquisite  landscape; 
there  was  a  perpetual  consciousness  of  the  glory  of  sunrise 
or  sunset;  he  watched  the  brooks,  and  meditated  on  the  mean- 
ing of  flowers  and  fields,  of  all  that  met  his  vision.     Words- 
worth was  doing  his  part  in  this  dawning  revelation  of  the 
spiritual  significance  of  the  natural  world,  and  Shelley  also, 
of  whom  he  was  a  constant  reader.     But  they  brought  their 
message  to  a  soul  preordained  for  its  reception.     From  his 
childhood,  and  through  all  his  years,  the  simple,  elementary 
consciousness  of  being  alive  and  on  this  earth,  the  open  eye 
for  the  special  revelation  given  in  the  coming  of  each  new 
day,  the  delight  in  observing  the  power  of  the  sun  to  beautify 
and  glorify  the  creation,  —  these  simplest  of  the  natural  sen- 
sations  never  lost  the  novelty  of  their  charm,   as  if  each 
new  day  was  a  fresh  miracle,  as  if  each  day  he  saw  the  won- 
drous phenomenon  for  the  first  time.     In  his  sermons  will  be 
found  the  ever-recurring  allusion  to  the  sun  as  the  symbol  of 
the  spiritual  life,  in  all  the  varieties  of  its  manifestation. 


ALT.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY     183 

The  amount  of  verse  that  he  wrote  while  at  the  seminary 
is  enough  to  fill  a  considerable  volume.  He  might  have  done 
something  as  a  poet  had  he  given  himself  to  it,  making  it  his 
highest  consecrated  task.  But  as  it  is,  it  must  be  regarded 
as  a  secondary  or  subordinate  gift,  —  the  manifestation  in- 
deed of  a  poet's  soul  and  creative  capacity,  but  never  utilized 
to  the  utmost.  If  it  had  been  his  vocation,  he  would  have 
been  compelled  to  pursue  it  with  jealous  care,  studying,  as 
he  did  not,  the  form  it  must  assume  in  order  to  perfection. 
His  verses  seem  to  have  taken  shape  in  his  mind,  then  to 
have  been  rapidly  written  without  much  effort  at  correction, 
or  when  he  did  correct  rarely  improving  upon  his  first  utter- 
ance. He  did  not  study  the  laws  of  metre  or  of  rhyme.  He 
was  writing  for  his  inward  satisfaction,  under  some  compul- 
sion to  give  form  and  restraint  to  his  emotion.  He  was  fond 
of  producing  couplets  in  order  to  the  epigrammatic  expression 
of  an  idea,  or  for  the  cultivation  of  a  forcible  style. 

In  his  last  year  in  the  seminary  (1859),  he  delivered  an 
address  upon  poetry  to  the  Howard  School,  near  Alexandria, 
from  which  we  may  learn  how  he  regarded  his  own  produc- 
tions. The  expanded  title  of  this  address  was  "  Poetry  —  the 
Power  and  the  Purity  of  the  Young  Man's  Life."  He  falls 
back  upon  the  word  TTOIT/T^S  as  constituting  the  essence  of 
poetry,  —  the  poet  is  the  man  who  makes  something.  He 
treats  in  the  first  place  of  what  he  calls  verse-writing,  con- 
scious as  he  was  of  the  large  amount  he  had  produced :  — 

But  first,  in  brackets,  let  me  say  one  word  about  this  same 
much-abused  verse-writing.  I  am  going  to  venture  the  broad 
assertion  that  all  men  may  be,  and  ought  to  be,  poets  all  the 
time.  Evidently  I  do  not  mean  by  this  that  we  ought  individ- 
ually to  be  raving  with  that  rhyme-madness  of  which  we  have 
so  much  already.  But  yet  it  seems  to  me  there  are  times  when 
it  is  good  for  any  man  to  perpetuate  a  page  or  two  with  lines 
ending  similarly.  There  are  moods  of  mind  and  circumstances 
of  condition  when  utterance,  and  utterance  in  that  particular  form 
which  we  call  verses,  is  eminently  healthy.  But  note  the  distinc- 
tion between  general  and  special  poetry.  There  is  a  good  deal  of 
poetry  that  is  perfectly  justifiable  to  write,  but  utterly  inexcusable 
to  show  when  written,  —  verses,  like  the  papers  in  lost  pocket- 


i84  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

books,  of  no  possible  value  except  to  the  owner,  yet  of  real  gen- 
uine use  to  him.  They  help  him  to  establish  his  identity,  to 
prove  his  right  to  old  hopes  and  thoughts  and  fancies,  to  hi* 
whole  past  self.  But  found  in  a  stranger's  hand  they  are  simply 
proof  positive  that  he  has  no  right  to  them.  Up  to  this  mark, 
then,  of  poetry  for  private  use,  it  does  seem  to  me  well  that  every 
man  once  in  his  life  at  least  should  come.  There  are  dumb  hands 
feeling  around  us  that,  like  the  mesmerizer's  fingers,  must  now 
and  then  find  us  impressible,  and  charm  us  into  a  dream.  There 
are  times  when  the  dullest  souls  among  us  fledge  unguessed-of 
wings  and  turn  to  sudden  poets.  There  are  brooks  whose  singing 
is  contagious,  and  sunrises  which  turn  all  live  men  into  Memnon 
statues.  We  find  poems  written  in  the  world  that  we  cannot  help 
reading  and  singing.  Out  of  as  prosaic  a  car  window  as  your 
road  can  boast,  I  saw  God  write  a  gorgeous  poem  this  very  morn- 
ing. With  a  fresh  sunbeam  for  a  pencil,  on  a  broad  sheet  of  level 
snow,  the  diamond  letters  were  spelled  out  one  by  one  till  the 
whole  was  aflame  with  poetry.  I  could  have  defied  the  deadest 
soul  in  that  hot  car  to  have  looked  out  of  that  window  and  not 
heard  that  song  of  the  Almighty  sing  itself  within  his  brain. 

So  much  for  our  parenthesis.  If  any  one  of  you  has  written 
poetry  by  stealth  and  is  ashamed  of  it,  don't  show  it;  but  if  it 
came  from  the  heart,  thank  God,  who  put  it  in  your  heart  to  write 
it.  Keep  it  so  long  as  it  can  sing  itself  to  you.  Only  don't  show 
it,  least  of  all  publish  it.  You  break  the  spell  as  soon  as  any  one 
but  yourself  sees  it.1 

The  poet,  he  calls  the  "widest  man  on  earth."  "Poetry 
is  the  sense  of  beauty."  "This  poet  poem,  this  creator  power 
of  making  a  world  of  beauty  in  the  soul  out  of  the  beauty  of 
the  earth  outside  of  us,  is  what  makes  one  young  man  stronger 
and  purer  than  his  fellows."  This  power  to  make  something 
which  otherwise  would  not  have  been  "comes  the  nearest  to 
being  superhuman,  to  getting  outside  the  chafing  humanities, 
the  weaknesses,  the  limitations,  the  hard  harness  of  routine." 
Others  can  alter,  only  the  poet  can  create.  "The  true  poet 
should  live  before  he  dares  to  write."  The  words  of  Milton 
are  quoted:  "He  who  would  not  be  frustrate  of  his  hope  to 
write  well  hereafter  in  laudable  things  ought  himself  to  be 
a  true  poem :  that  is,  a  composition  of  the  best  and  honor- 
ablest  things." 

1  Euays  and  Addrtstts,  p.  237. 


MT.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY     185 

One  of  the  most  important  features  of  the  note-books  is 
the  intimations  they  contain  of  a  profound  conception  of  the 
scheme  of  things,  wrought  out  by  an  isolated  student  in  much 
inward  perturbation  with  no  assistance  from  his  teachers. 
When  Phillips  Brooks  left  home  for  the  theological  semi- 
nary, he  provided  himself  in  advance  with  these  books,  in 
anticipation  of  the  service  they  would  render.  When  he 
reached  his  new  abode,  and  found  himself  among  strangers, 
in  an  inconvenient  room,  with  a  bed  too  short  for  him,  with 
no  "armchair"  or  any  of  the  comforts  and  conveniences  of 
life,  with  only  the  light  afforded  by  a  tallow  candle,  he  sat 
down  at  the  earliest  moment  to  his  self-imposed  task  and 
continued  the  work  of  registering  his  thoughts.  He  had 
become  conscious  of  the  power  of  thought  as  shown  in  the 
reflections  he  had  recorded  before  leaving  home,  while  he 
was  still  suffering  from  disappointment.  He  divided  his 
note-book  in  two  equal  parts,  the  first  for  the  purpose  of 
holding  remarks  of  others  worth  copying,  hints  and  sugges- 
tions from  his  reading,  stray  bits  of  information,  all  the 
items  in  short  for  a  miscellaneous  commonplace  book.  In 
the  second  half  he  wrote  down  the  thoughts  which  were  his 
own.  It  is  worth  mentioning  that  he  filled  out  the  second 
half  of  the  book  long  before  the  first,  and  went  back  to 
encroach  upon  the  empty  pages  with  the  ideas  that  were 
coming  thick  and  fast.  At  first  he  set  over  against  each 
thought  the  day  when  he  recorded  it.  But  after  a  few 
months  the  thoughts  were  so  many  that  he  ceased  to  give 
the  date,  content  if  he  could  catch  the  images  that  floated 
through  his  mind. 

The  first  of  these  thoughts  is  dated  November  14,  1856, 
one  week  after  reaching  Virginia :  — 

For  our  virtue  should  not  be  a  deed  or  a  work,  but  a  growth,  — 
a  growth  like  a  tree's,  always  rising  higher  from  its  own  inner 
strength  and  sap ;  not  a  work  like  a  building  patched  upon  by  for- 
eign hands,  with  foreign  substance,  and  so  when  done  unreal,  for- 
eign itself,  and  not  our  own.  Or  it  should  be  like  a  statue  worked 
slowly  out  of  the  hard  old  grain  of  the  native  stone ;  not  like  a 
painting,  a  cheat  of  foreign  color  with  all  its  artificial  beauties 
of  perspective,  foreshortening,  and  shadow. 


1 86  PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [1856-57 

Then  oomes  a  stanza  in  which  he  gives  the  impression 
made  upon  him  by  his  first  introduction  to  theological  learn* 
ing:  — 

How  vain  is  our  knowing  unless  we  can  feel 

How  little  mere  study  alone  can  reveal. 

How  the  slow  waves  of  learning  creep  page  after  page, 

Like  the  wearing  of  torrents,  an  inch  in  an  age. 

Two  weeks  elapse  before  he  makes  his  second  entry :  — 

December  1,  1856.  To  many  minds  a  ceremony  or  a  form  comes 
with  all  the  force  of  a  principle  or  a  fact.  Not  "what  man  has 
done  man  may  do, "  but  what  man  has  done  man  must  do  is  their 
creed,  which  cramps  their  limbs  and  chills  their  blood  and  makes 
them  fail  of  the  little  good  they  are  seeking.  For  no  man  by 
sheer  imitation  has  yet  reached  his  pattern.  Even  if  in  native 
power  he  is  more  than  equal  to  the  task,  and  so  in  outward  deeds 
even  excels  his  example,  the  flush  and  glow  of  original  achieve- 
ment, which  made  the  model  a  living,  warm,  breathing  thing,  is 
wanting  to  the  copy  which  is  cold  and  stiff  and  dead. 

December  2,  1856.  For  a  noble  principle  or  thought,  like  the 
widow's  barrel  and  cruse,  is  never  dry.  We  draw  on  it  for  our 
daily  life,  we  drink  of  its  power  in  our  weakness,  and  taste  its 
power  in  our  despair;  but  (tod's  blessing  is  on  it  and  the  fulness 
of  his  truth  is  filling  it,  and  so  it  never  fails.  We  come  back  to  it 
in  our  next  weakness  or  our  next  despondency,  and  find  it  thought- 
ful and  hopeful  as  ever,  till  the  famine  is  over,  and,  kept  alive 
and  nurtured  by  its  strength,  we  come  forth  to  gather  new  harvests 
of  great  thoughts. 

The  following  verses  were  written  December  3,  1856,  and 
seem  to  have  been  the  result  of  two  depressing  influences: 
the  coming  of  winter  with  the  falling  of  the  leaves,  which 
affects  his  susceptible  constitution,  and  this  combined  with 
the  circumstance  that  in  theological  study  he  is  mainly  con- 
cerned with  dead  authors,  and  not  in  communion  with  the 
voices  of  the  living  present :  — 

How  earth's  dead  leaves  are  crumbling  wherever  we  walk, 
How  dead  voices  answer  our  voice  when  we  talk, 
How  cold  hands  are  clasping  our  hands  while  we  tread, 
And  the  footsteps  beside  us  are  steps  of  the  dead. 


^T.  20-2i]     THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY     187 

The  life  we  are  living  has  been  other  men's  breath, 
The  death  we  are  dying  reechoes  their  death, 
Our  old  earth  wheels  in  cycles  from  death  into  life, 
And  weds  dead  unto  dying  as  husband  to  wife. 

From  this  mood  he  rallies,  at  the  voice  of  duty,  in  two 
lines  which  are  vigorous  and  in  contrast  with  his  depression. 
He  can  turn  again  to  the  dead  text-books :  — 

And  the  cold  grasp  of  duty  embraces  delight, 

Like  the  rough  rocky  bay  where  the  waters  lie  bright. 

The  same  day  closes  with  what  comes  as  near  the  conven- 
tionality of  religious  self-examination  as  he  ever  allowed  him- 
self to  approach.  He  is  putting  himself  to  the  supremest  test 
of  character  which  can  be  conceived.  The  idea  embodied 
here  may  have  some  other  original  suggestion  than  from  his 
own  mind,  but  with  him  it  is  new :  — 

December  3,  1856.  Suppose  a  single  day  of  perfect  sincerity,  a 
day  with  no  falsehood,  no  sham,  but  only  purest  truth,  when  a  lie 
should  be  an  impossibility  and  a  cheat  unheard  of  from  the  rising 
to  the  setting  of  the  sun.  How  earth's  eyes  would  open  before 
that  day  was  done !  What  golden  shrines  it  would  pull  down  and 
show  the  hideous  gibbering  idol  that  grins  within!  What  Esau- 
skins  it  would  tear  off,  what  good  men  it  would  turn  to  knaves  and 
knaves  to  very  devils!  How  long  before  the  noon  of  that  day 
men  would  go  crying  for  the  rocks  and  hills  to  fall  on  them  and 
hide  them  from  a  sincere  world  and  themselves!  But  oh,  it  is 
cheering  to  think  that  there  are  characters  which  would  show 
brighter  for  that  day,  characters  that  would  stand  like  unruined 
ruins,  hung  over  with  moss  and  ivy,  and  heaped  in  rubbish  of  old 
dead  forms  and  dry  ceremonies,  which  would  shake  off  all  this 
defilement,  to  stand  out  in  their  simple,  honest,  beautiful,  native 
beauty,  in  the  clear  light  of  the  world's  truest  day.1 

This  next  series  of  extracts  might  be  made  the  subject  for 
theological  comment.  They  show  a  departure  from  the  pre- 
vailing Evangelical  methods  of  dealing  with  sin  and  the  con- 
science. The  stress  is  here  laid  upon  the  freedom  of  the  will, 
and  God's  grace  is  conceived  as  lying  within  the  soul. 

1  This  thought  reappears  in  one  of  his  most  powerful  sermons  entitled  the 
"  Law  of  Liberty,"  Sermons,  vol.  ii.  pp.  189,  190. 


1 88  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

There  is  aspiration  after  the  highest  ethical  result,  but  it  is 
more  than  aspiration,  for  the  will  is  concerned  as  the  direct 
fountain  of  man's  being,  and  to  bring  truth  and  reason  to 
bear  upon  the  will  is  conceived  as  the  greatest  problem.  Not 
a  problem  so  much  for  theology,  though  that  is  implied,  but 
the  issue  of  life.  Carlyle  had  seen  the  issue,  but  he  refrained 
from  dealing  with  the  practical  question,  —  how  truth  is  to  be 
brought  to  bear  upon  the  will  in  order  to  moral  transforma- 
tion. Phillips  Brooks  here  appears  as  taking  up  the  subject 
where  Carlyle  has  left  it.  These  extracts  also  reveal  to  some 
extent  the  process  of  his  conversion.  He  has  realized  that 
the  primary,  fundamental  preparation  for  the  ministry  is  that 
a  man  must  have  himself  first  become  what  he  will  strive  to 
help  others  to  be.  There  is  something  unique  in  these  con- 
fessions of  a  soul. 

December  5,  1856.  Wholly  deprecating  any  morbid  weakness 
over  the  past,  I  still  say  that  we  are  too  much  afraid  to  look  the 
lives  we  have  been  living  in  the  face.  We  are  ashamed  and 
shrink  from  owning  and  claiming  our  past  selves.  They  have 
been  weak  and  wicked,  and  we,  whose  their  wickedness  and  weak- 
ness really  are,  have  not  the  manliness  to  bear  the  shame.  We 
turn  with  a  shudder  from  the  poor  offspring  of  our  lives,  and  say 
with  Hagar,  Let  me  not  see  the  death  of  the  child.  Oh,  if  we 
can  only  hear  God's  angel  calling,  "Fear  not,  for  I  have  heard 
the  voice  of  the  lad  where  he  is,"  "Arise,  lift  up  the  lad,  for  I 
will  make  him  a  great  nation, "  and  we  do  arise  and  take  our  old 
poor  weak  lives  in  our  hands  and  go  forth  to  train  them  by  God's 
strength  into  richness  and  power. 

December  6,  1856.  The  old  Persians  thought  that  their  sacred 
fire  must  be  always  kept,  but  only  the  purest  wood  in  its  purest 
state  was  good  enough  to  keep  it  alive.  Let  us  imitate  their  care. 
Any  great  thought  or  great  fervor  that  is  in  us  let  us  reverence 
and  preserve,  but  let  not  base  word  or  thought  or  act  come  near 
it,  though  it  be  to  preserve  its  life.  Better  cease  to  think  nobly 
than  cease  to  think  purely.  Better  that  the  ark  should  fall  than 
that  profane  hands  should  hold  it  in  its  place. 

December  7,  1856.  The  danger  with  a  cherished  idea  is  simply 
the  same  as  with  a  graven  image,  that  it  will  cease  to  become 
a  symbol  and  become  a  god,  that  our  minds,  long  bent  down  to 


JET.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY     189 

the  thought  however  great,  will  become  stiff  and  strong  in  its 
bending  and  no  longer  spring  up  to  the  Father  of  thoughts.  .  .  . 
The  purest  reason,  which  is  the  purest  religion,  turns  to  ration- 
alism, which  is  idolatry.  For  reverence  is  the  eyelash  that  lets 
us  endure  the  sun,  which  lost,  we  must  make  up  our  minds  to 
darkness  for  the  rest  of  our  lives,  and  give  up  forever  all  thoughts 
of  the  vigor  and  health  and  pure  richness  of  life  which  sunlight 
only  gives. 

December  8,  1856.  Practically  are  we  not  too  apt  to  forget 
that  Theology  and  Law  are  professions,  but  Religion  and  Justice  are 
universal  duties  and  lives  ?  —  precisely  as  Medicine  is  a  profession, 
but  health  is  not,  for  it  is  a  universal  care.  For  a  profession  is 
only  the  organized  head  of  a  great  interest ;  not  the  embodiment 
or  absorption  of  that  interest  at  all,  only  the  symbol  of  its  great- 
est purity,  not  itself  in  any  sense. 

December  9,  1856.  If  a  sense  of  duty  were  made  the  measur- 
ing requisite  of  mental  strength,  if  just  in  proportion  as  a  man 
earnestly  recognized  the  work  there  was  to  do  on  earth  his  share 
was  measured  out  to  him,  and  mind  and  strength  was  given  him 
to  do  it,  how  with  a  will  and  a  stir  earth's  labor  would  go  on. 
This  is  what  we  need,  to  bring  the  will  to  meet  the  power.  There 
is  enough  of  both,  but  they  lie  in  different  hands,  and  oh,  how 
often  the  men  who  hold  the  power  stand  like  savages  on  some  new- 
found golden  coast,  holding  out  their  priceless  treasures,  and  proud 
and  eager  to  barter  them  for  some  childish  trinket  or  poor  worth- 
less toy. 

December  10,  1856.  For  local  heresies  are  little  things  and  the 
mind  is  weakly  empty  that  fills  itself  with  care  for  them.  They 
look  like  fearful  things  as  they  hiss  and  spit  their  little  venom  at 
our  feet,  but  wait  till  some  true  prophet  come,  and  his  very  rod 
cast  upon  earth  shall  breed  great  issues  that  shall  swallow  them 
all  up. 

December  14,  1856.  To  walk  through  evil  into  good  is  one  of 
those  hard  trials  which  are  never  worth  the  risk.  The  chance  is 
that  we  shall  stop  short  in  the  evil.  True  we  gain  wondrous 
strength  if  we  succeed,  and  if  men's  path  lay  always  in  that  way 
we  might  be  sure  of  strong  men,  as  the  Indians  are  of  braves. 
But  only  an  overstrung  man  now  and  then  struggles  through,  and 
comes  out  glowing  from  the  struggle  purer  and  stronger  for  the 
work,  like  John  Rogers,  who,  Fox  tells  us  in  his  "Book  of  Mar- 


190  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

tyre, "  "  with  no  cry  of  pain  washed  his  hands  in  the  flames  as  if 
they  had  been  cold  water." 

December  20,  1856.  If  a  thought  comes  and  offers  its  service 
question  it  like  a  man.  What  can  you  do  ?  Are  you  a  worker  ? 
Can  you  sow  and  dig  and  build  ?  Are  you  a  schemer  ?  Can  you 
scheme,  divine,  invent  ?  Are  you  a  teacher  ?  Can  you  show  us 
better  ways  to  live  and  better  ways  to  die  ?  Are  you  an  artist  ? 
Can  you  clothe  our  lives  with  more  beauty,  making  them  know 
more  of  holiness  and  purity  and  love  and  God?  Ask  these  ques- 
tions, and  let  no  thought  enter  your  service  that  cannot  answer 
them  freely  and  well,  and  the  mysticism  of  thought  is  gone  and 
the  thinker  is  the  most  practical  of  men. 

This  next  paragraph  is  very  personal.  He  was  conscious 
of  some  inward  difference  from  his  teachers  or  his  fellows  in 
his  way  of  interpreting  theology  and  life,  as  they  too  were 
beginning  to  be  aware  that  a  man  of  different  mould  had 
appeared  among  them.  And  yet  he  would  fain  have  been 
regarded  as  entirely  one  with  them.  The  world,  as  he  after- 
wards wrote,  resents  anything  mysterious  or  exceptional. 

December  21,  1856.  Yes,  Originality  is  a  fine  thing,  but  first 
have  you  the  head  to  bear  it?  Can  you  walk  under  it  without 
reeling  and  staggering  about  the  world,  catching  at  every  weak 
support  to  keep  you  steady,  with  a  whole  pack  of  little  minds 
hooting  and  jeering  and  pelting  you  with  mire  all  the  way  ?  And 
have  you  the  heart  for  it?  Can  you  wear  it  within  as  well  as 
without,  be  warmed  to  the  core  with  the  fire  of  its  life?  It  is 
so  easy  to  be  a  John  the  Baptist  as  far  as  the  wilderness  and 
goat's  hair  and  leathern  girdle  and  the  locusts  and  wild  honey 
go,  but  the  glowing  heart  to  speak  from  and  the  holy  words  to 
speak  are  a  different  thing.  It  is  with  new  forms  and  styles  as 
with  new-found  gold.  We  may  strike  a  nugget  and  be  rich  men 
at  once  in  our  California,  but  the  average  chance  is  that  it  will 
be  better  in  the  long  run  for  you  and  me  to  stay  at  home  and 
work  as  our  fathers  work,  counting  that  very  work  a  fortune  in 
itself.  Besides,  it  is  dangerous,  this  trifling  with  novelties.  It 
requires  hazardous  experiments  before  we  can  be  at  all  sure  that 
they  will  answer  our  purpose.  We  have  been  told  to  strike  the 
blood  upon  the  lintels  and  two  side  posts,  that  the  angel  of  death 
may  see  it  and  pass  by.  Is  it  quite  safe  to  try  if  wine  and  water 
will  not  do  as  well? 


JET.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY     191 

January  1,  1857.  How  we  grow  more  and  more  to  see  that 
it  is  the  will  and  the  feelings,  far  more  than  any  thought,  upon 
which  almost  all  our  life  and  loved  opinions  rest.  How  much  of 
our  faith  is  obstinacy,  how  much  of  our  devotion  sentiment,  how 
much  of  our  religion  pride ;  how  much  working  strength  there  is 
in  a  blind  determination  and  how  little  in  a  clear-eyed  thought. 
How  our  will  comes  out  at  once,  full-fledged  and  strong,  shak- 
ing its  baby  defiance  at  argument  in  its  cradle,  while  our  thoughts 
are  poor  callow,  frightened  things,  weak  and  fluttering  before 
anything  that  dares  to  show  a  trace  of  manly  power.  Mohammed 
knew  all  this  and  built  Mohammedism  upon  sentiment  and  will, 
and  stamped  the  marks  of  shrewd  sense  upon  it  when  he  forbade 
the  Islamite  to  dispute  on  his  religion.  And  how  even  a  fresh 
thought  will  fossilize  into  a  mere  dead  will,  how  it  will  be  crushed 
by  great  creeds  till  its  life  and  essence  are  gone  out  of  it,  as  the 
bloom  and  smell  of  a  flower  pressed  in  some  heavy  book.  We 
must  change  and  air  our  ideas  if  we  would  keep  them  pure  and 
strong. 

January  11,  1857.  A  noble  cause  cannot  of  itself  make  a  man 
noble.  We  must  despair  of  growing  great,  unless  we  can  feel  that 
we  are  given  to  the  cause  to  work  for  it,  and  not  it  to  work  for 
us.  In  the  old  torch  races  of  Pan,  the  rule  was  that  each  runner 
should  hold  his  torch  as  long  as  it  kept  its  light,  but  when  he 
flagged  he  must  hand  it  to  another  who  stood  ready  girded  to 
follow  up  the  race.  And  so  it  must  be  with  us.  We  must  re- 
cognize the  great  end  of  all  this  panting  and  running  and  toiling, 
not  that  you  or  I  should  reach  the  goal,  and  be  rich  or  honored  in 
men's  mouths,  but  that  the  torch  of  truth  that  was  put  into  our 
hands  when  we  started  should  reach  the  people  at  the  end  all 
alight  with  truth  as  when  we  took  it.  Let  it  be  our  hands,  if  we 
can,  that  bring  it  there,  and  then  the  honor  shall  be  ours;  but 
that  must  not  be  our  end,  and  when  we  see  it  sinking  and  going 
out,  let  no  petty  conceit  or  unfledged  pride  keep  us  from  giving  it 
to  a  fresher  and  stronger  man,  with  a  hearty  Godspeed  to  run 
the  next  stage  of  the  same  great  journey.  Thus  we  win  a  broad- 
ness and  deepness  and  fulness  of  character  that  sinks  all  little 
human  ventures  like  the  sea. 

February  6,  1857.  What  has  become  of  all  that  blessing  of 
Christ  which  He  left  with  his  people  on  earth  on  that  "first  day 
of  the  week,  when  the  doors  were  shut  where  the  disciples  were 
assembled  for  fear  of  the  Jews,  and  Jesus  came  and  stood  in  the 
midst,  and  said  unto  them,  Peace  be  unto  you  "  ?  Has  it  with- 


1 92  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

ered  in  the  scorching  heat  of  the  world's  fiery  hopes  and  more 
fiery  fears,  and  rage  and  scorn  and  ignorance  and  pride  ?  Or  is  it 
still  bright  with  the  everlasting  freshness  of  its  miraculous  youth, 
making  humble  hearts  more  holy,  and  holy  lives  more  happy 
wherever  there  is  a  clear  eye,  or  better  still  a  clear  heart,  to  see 
its  beauty  and  great  power  of  making  blessed  ?  When  He  sent  it 
on  earth  in  a  few  weak  men's  hands  and  it  floated  down  on  weak 
men's  breath,  as  centuries  before  the  hope  of  Israel  had  drifted  in 
a  bulrush  cradle  down  the  Nile,  till  some  unthinking  and  unknow- 
ing hand  could  take  it  up  and  nurture  it  and  make  it  strong  and 
noble  in  the  high  places  of  the  land,  He  sent  it  with  a  power  to 
insure  its  life,  the  everlasting  power  of  comfort  to  the  wretched 
and  riches  to  the  poor,  and  his  own  holy  power  to  the  weak,  so 
long  as  there  should  be  poor,  weak,  and  wretched  men  and  women 
on  his  earth. 

February,  1857.  In  spite  of  all  the  mischief  that  over-credu- 
lous delusion  has  always  done,  I  still  say  we  need  more  faith  upon 
earth.  We  have  not  the  trust  that  we  ought  to  have  in  God  and 
nature,  in  human  hopes  and  dreams  and  bright  stray  thoughts 
that  have  wandered  from  their  homes  in  heaven,  with  its  light  and 
glory  and  nnproven  truth  still  glorifying  them,  and  come  and  ask 
us  to  take  them  in  from  the  cold  world  where  they  feel  strange, 
and  shelter  and  cherish  them  while  they  shall  lighten  our  hearts 
and  homes.  We  turn  them  away,  for  we  do  not  believe  in  them. 
We  do  not  trust  to  poetry  or  art,  to  our  neighbors  or  ourselves. 
"Lord,  increase  our  faith."  For  faith  is  strengthening  and  in- 
vigorating in  its  simple  exercise.  It  is  better  to  have  trusted 
and  been  cheated  than  never  to  have  trusted  at  all,  better,  that 
is,  for  our  souls,  if  we  have  their  welfare  at  all  in  care.  I  would 
trust  in  human  goodness  and  purity  and  truth  as  I  do  in  the  yearly 
return  of  May,  a  day  or  two  later  perhaps,  one  or  two  more  cold 
storms  or  dead  dull  frozen  days  in  one  year  than  another,  but  sure 
to  come  at  last,  unable  in  any  event  to  fail  of  coming  as  long  as 
this  world  is  this  world  and  nature  what  it  has  always  been. 

It  is  not  for  us  to  make  our  lives  artistic,  we  can  only  make 
them  true.  If  we  give  ourselves  to  a  weak  attempt  to  build  them 
for  effect,  to  place  ourselves  where  some  critical  observer  might 
stand  and  fashion  them  to  suit  his  point  of  view,  we  shall  surely 
make  them  wretched  failures.  It  is  not  thus  that  nature  works. 
There  is  no  studied  symmetry,  no  measured  perspective,  no  con- 
scious foreshortening  in  her  great  original.  All  this  is  left  to  the 
observer's  eye,  and  nature  declines  to  be  accountable  for  the  pow- 


MT.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY     193 

ers,  or  infirmities,  or  refinement,  or  clumsiness  of  his  vision.  All 
she  does  is  to  grow  to  perfect  truth  and  ripeness  in  each  separate 
part,  to  give  each  flower  its  perfect  hue,  each  hill  its  perfect  slope, 
each  tree  its  perfect  development  of  graceful  form,  each  living 
thing  its  perfect  healthfulness  of  animal  life,  its  perfect  power  of 
speech,  or  song,  or  speed,  or  it  may  be  rich  simple  existence.  Just 
this  then  is  our  duty  by  our  lives.  Give  them  room  to  grow  to 
truth,  and  they  will  grow  to  symmetry;  give  them  leave  to  ripen, 
and  they  will  richen  too.  Let  each  day's  commonest  act  be  an 
act  that  has  an  aim  and  does  it,  and  it  shall  make  us  wonder  to 
see  us  dignified  by  that  aim  and  cured  of  all  its  commonness,  tak- 
ing its  place  of  its  own  true  instinct  in  the  true,  fresh,  glowing 
pictures  of  our  life. 

It  is  hard  to  feel  with  what  a  force  the  philosophy  of  Lucretius 
must  have  come  home  to  the  educated  Roman  of  his  time.  The 
perfection  of  a  theory,  in  the  symmetry  of  its  parts,  its  perfect 
self-consistency,  its  broad  pretence  of  freedom  from  prejudice  and 
the  old  superstition  whose  claims  pressed  heavier  and  heavier 
every  day  upon  the  enlightened  mind,  it  stood  and  challenged 
admission  to  the  heart  of  every  thinker  and  scholar  and  patriot 
of  Rome.  The  mind  of  the  intelligent  Roman  of  the  Christian 
era  was  like  the  poor  man's  house  in  the  Scripture.  The  unclean 
spirit,  stained  with  the  growing  foulness  of  the  mythology,  was 
at  length  gone  out,  and  he  walked  through  dry  places  seeking  rest. 
And  finding  none,  he  returned  to  the  house  where  his  old  gods  had 
stood,  and  found  it  empty  and  garnished.  But  his  heart  craved 
the  sympathy  and  company  of  some  thoughts,  great  or  mean,  and 
so  when  he  found  materialism  and  atheism  and  the  soul's  mor- 
tality made  beautiful  in  the  sweet  singing  of  Lucretius,  he  took 
to  himself  this  new  spirit,  more  wicked  because  more  faithless  than 
his  old  self,  and  it  entered  in  and  dwelt  there.  It  was  not  long 
before  it  had  done  its  work,  and  the  last  state  of  that  man  was 
worse,  because  it  had  less  faith,  less  hope,  less  manly  trust  in 
Heaven  than  the  first. 

In  the  great  temple  where  the  singers  of  old  are  sleeping  their 
quiet  sleep,  where  Homer's  gray  tranquillity,  and  Shakespeare's 
still,  calm  forehead,  and  Milton's  peaceful,  sightless  face  lie,  un- 
disturbed, as  if  they  looked  on  inner  sights  and  listened  to  some 
inner  voice,  while  the  noisy,  heedless  world  is  wrangling  and 
chattering  and  fighting  without,  above  each  minstrel's  tomb  hangs 
the  harp  to  which  he  sang,  still  strung  and  tuned  for  singing. 
But  well  may  men  tremble,  as  they  walk  through  the  temple  and 


194  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

stand  and  look  and  think  upon  the  dead,  to  take  down  their  harp 
and  draw  presumptuous  hands  across  their  strings.  Yet  let  us 
look  with  indulgence  and  hope  when,  in  the  strength  of  young 
poetry,  some  hand  is  timidly  reached  to  touch  those  old  chords  and 
try  if  perhaps  the  old  music  that  lies  in  them  may  answer  to  an- 
other than  its  master's  call,  and  creep  forth  once  more  to  make 
the  world  happier  and  better  again,  as  it  did  of  old. 

We  mast  learn  the  infinite  capacity  of  truth  to  speak  to  every 
human  mind,  and  of  every  human  mind  to  hear,  and  more  or  less 
completely  understand,  the  truth  that  speaks.  It  may  come  like 
a  poor  and  shambling  thing,  and  impart  in  its  stammering  Galilean 
tongue  the  great  message  that  it  has  to  give,  but  all  the  multitude 
will  catch  the  words,  and  whatever  may  be  their  tribe,  Romans, 
Medes,  Parthians,  and  Jews,  shall  hear  in  their  own  tongue,  like 
that  Whitsunday  congregation,  the  wonderful  works  of  God.  Let 
us  then  reverence  our  neighbor's  way  of  finding  truth.  If  by  his 
life  and  faith  we  can  clearly  see  that  he  is  finding  it  indeed,  let 
us  not  turn  away  because  he  hears  it  in  another  tongue  than  ours. 
The  speaker  is  the  same.  If  he  can  read  in  a  stormy  sky,  or  a 
sunny  landscape,  lessons  for  which  we  must  go  to  books  and  ser- 
mons, so  much  the  better  for  him. 

When  we  gain  a  victory  moral  or  mental,  when  we  subdue  a 
passion  or  achieve  a  thought,  let  the  conquest  be  decisive.  Let 
the  question  be  settled,  the  idea  mastered,  the  doubt  decided  for- 
ever. Let  there  be  no  fear  of  future  difficulty.  If  the  serpent 
lie  across  OUT  path  and  we  must  kill  it  to  pass,  let  the  blow  be 
struck  straight  and  strong;  let  us  lift  the  body  and  see  that  it  be 
really  dead,  lest  when  we  pass  this  way  again  to-morrow  it  may 
lift  its  foul  head  and  hiss  and  frighten  us  from  the  pathway  out 
among  thorns  and  briers,  wandering  from  our  way,  torn  and  tired 
with  our  struggles,  ashamed  of  the  wretched  shiftlessness  which 
is  only  a  specimen  of  our  moral  and  mental  lives. 

There  lies  in  earth  a  secret  note  to  which  her  harmony  should 
be  and  was  at  first  attuned,  but  from  which  her  degenerate  discord 
wanders.  Her  slow  ear  has  forgotten  that  old  first  note,  and  she 
chants  her  daily  song  unconscious  of  the  wandering  of  her  voice, 
till,  once  in  an  age,  some  great  soul  comes  and  reaching  forth  a 
master's  finger  touches  life's  keynote,  and  all  earth  trembles  when 
she  hears  the  harmony,  and  knows  at  one  sudden  shock  how  far  her 
mortal  song  has  strayed  from  the  old  angel's  anthem  from  which 
•he  learned  it  first. 


MT.  20-21]     THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY     195 

It  is  the  marvellous  profusion  of  suggested  poetry  that  im- 
presses us  most  in  the  old  classic  poets.  All  around  in  the  wonder- 
ful perfections  of  symmetry  and  grace  that  they  have  given  us,  we 
can  see  the  rough  or  half-shaped  materials  of  new  beauty  as  beau- 
tiful as  theirs,  as  we  may  still  walk  through  the  old,  deserted 
workshop  of  the  Acropolis,  and  count  the  blocks  halfway  wrought 
centuries  ago,  which  might  have  found  a  place  in  the  great  citadel. 

Until  we  have  learned  the  universal  language  of  human  sym- 
pathy, how  can  we  hope  to  speak  so  that  all  may  hear  us,  and 
be  drawn  to  us  by  what  they  hear  ?  While  we  speak  thus,  each  in 
the  selfish  tongue  of  our  own  interest  or  passions,  our  words  will 
come  sealed  to  the  ears  of  our  fellows,  and  all  the  consciousness 
that  we  are  heard  and  understood  by  others,  or  the  sweeter  feel- 
ing that  the  world  is  better  for  our  words,  will  all  be  lost. 

The  world  claims  of  us,  as  Nebuchadnezzar  did  of  the  Chal- 
deans, not  only  to  solve,  but  first  of  all  to  discover  her  problems. 
The  man  who  has  learnt  thoroughly  what  it  is  that  is  wonderful 
and  inexplicable,  where  the  hard  questions  lie,  in  the  constitution 
and  habit  of  the  world  and  of  his  fellow  men,  even  if  his  steps 
have  been  very  few  towards  the  explanation  of  those  wonders,  has 
reached  not  a  little  knowledge  of  men  and  things. 

Indulgence  to  well-meaning  error  we  may  allow  to  a  right  de- 
gree in  the  heart ;  our  care  must  be  that  it  does  not  climb  thence 
into  the  head .  The  passage  lies  in  the  will ;  here  we  must  keep 
our  guard,  lest  from  enduring  evil  as  intending  well  we  come  to 
choose  it  as  itself  good. 

To  these  passages  written  at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  when 
he  was  in  the  throes  of  the  regenerating  process,  may  be  sub- 
joined a  passage  from  his  book,  "The  Influence  of  Jesus," 
where,  after  many  years  had  gone  by,  he  could  calmly  note 
the  way  by  which  he  had  been  led :  — 

Who  of  us  has  not  bowed  his  will  to  some  supreme  law,  ac- 
cepted some  obedience  as  the  atmosphere  in  which  his  life  must 
live,  and  found  at  once  that  his  mind's  darkness  turned  to  light 
and  that  many  a  hard  question  found  its  answer?  Who  has  not 
sometimes  seemed  to  see  it  all  as  clear  as  daylight,  that  not  by 
the  sharpening  of  the  intellect  to  supernatural  acuteness,  but  by  the 
submission  of  the  nature  to  its  true  authority,  man  was  at  last  to 
conquer  truth ;  that  not  by  agonizing  struggles  over  contradictory 


196  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1856-57 

evidence,  bnt  by  the  harmony  with  Him  in  whom  the  answers  to 
all  our  doubts  are  folded,  a  harmony  with  Him  brought  by  obe- 
dience to  Him,  our  doubts  must  be  enlightened  ?  ' 

The  summer  of  1857  was  passed  with  his  family  in  the 
home  on  Chauncy  Street,  Boston.  As  the  first  home-coming 
after  so  long  an  absence,  we  can  imagine  what  it  must  have 
been  to  the  family,  and  especially  to  the  mother.  His  father 
met  him  at  the  railway  station  and  bore  him  home  in  t ri- 
uiuj'li.  Almost  immediately  upon  his  arrival,  he  hastened 
to  take  the  long-deferred  step,  in  the  language  of  the  Church, 
of  ratifying  his  baptismal  vows.  He  was  presented  by  Rev. 
Edward  L.  Drown,  and  confirmed  by  the  Rt.  Rev.  Manton 
Eastburn  at  St.  Mary's  Church,  Dorchester,  Sunday,  July 
12,  1857.  The  place  may  have  been  chosen  partly  for  con- 
venience, partly  because  of  relations,  his  uncle,  Mr.  John 
Phillips,  residing  there.  At  this  time  six  months  had  elapsed 
since  his  twenty-first  birthday.  Among  his  mother's  papers 
found  after  her  death  was  this  memorandum :  — 

Sunday,  July  12, 1867. 

This  has  been  a  most  happy  day  in  which  I  have  witnessed  the 
Confirmation  of  my  dear  son  Phillips,  aged  twenty-one,  at  Dor- 
chester. 

I  will  thank  God  forever  that  He  has  answered  my  lifelong 
prayers  in  making  him  a  Christian  and  His  servant  in  the  ministry. 

Oh,  how  happy  this  makes  me!  May  God  continue  to  bless 
my  dear  boy  and  make  him  a  burning  and  shining  light  in  His 
service. 

1  Tht  Influence  of  Jenu,  p.  23L 


CHAPTER  VI 

1857-1858 

SECOND  TEAK  AT  THE  ALEXANDRIA   SEMINARY.      EXPERI- 
ENCE OF  LIFE  IN  VIRGINIA.      HOME  LETTERS 

IN  the  family  at  home  during  the  summer  were  his  older 
brother  William,  engaged  in  business  in  Boston,  and  the  three 
younger  children,  Frederick,  Arthur,  and  John.  George, 
the  third  son,  was  away,  living  on  a  farm  for  the  purpose  of 
a  scientific  as  well  as  practical  study  of  agriculture.  Fred- 
erick, who  was  the  fourth  son,  was  now  fifteen,  studying  in 
the  Latin  School,  and  preparing  for  Harvard  College.  Be- 
tween him  and  Phillips  a  romantic  affection  now  began  to 
exist.  Phillips  interested  himself  in  the  Latin  School  work 
again,  giving  to  his  brother  the  benefit  of  his  own  experience, 
almost  assuming  the  responsibility  of  a  teacher,  as  is  shown 
in  the  many  and  minute  directions  he  offers  and  the  enthusi- 
asm he  manifests  over  any  victory  gamed.  Arthur  and  John 
were  known  in  the  family  as  the  "little  boys;  "  they  too  were 
at  work  over  their  books,  with  the  example  to  incite  them  of 
the  older  brother.  The  summer  was  not  an  idle  one.  To  do 
work  of  some  kind  was  the  law  of  the  family.  It  was  the 
custom  of  the  father  when  he  came  home  in  the  evening  to 
ask  the  boys  what  they  had  been  doing  through  the  day. 
Phillips  had  known  what  it  was  to  have  idle  days,  when  he 
had  nothing  to  report.  On  these  occasions,  as  he  confesses, 
he  sought  to  keep  out  of  his  father's  way. 

But  the  love  of  study  for  its  own  sake,  and  for  the  plea- 
sure it  gave,  had  now  been  established.  He  began  another 
note-book  in  August,  which  contains  many  extracts  from  his 
reading.  Very  interesting  these  notes  are  to  read,  as  well 
as  significant  of  his  mental  tastes  and  of  his  development. 
The  works  of  Lord  Bacon  attracted  him,  seen  in  the  quota* 


i98  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1857-58 

tions  he  makes,  some  in  Latin  and  some  translated,  from  the 
"Novum  Organum,"  the  "Nova  Atlantis,"  the  "De  Sapientis 
Veterum."  This  latter  work  was  peculiarly  suggestive,  as 
falling  in  with  his  own  tendency  to  see  in  the  Greek  my- 
thology an  allegorical  presentation  of  philosophical  truth. 
He  kept  up  his  German  by  reading  Schiller.  To  his  favorite 
authors,  Tennyson  and  Carlyle,  were  added  Browning  and 
Matthew  Arnold,  whose  poetry  he  was  now  reading  for  the 
first  time  and  with  whom  he  was  greatly  captivated.  He 
read  Montaigne's  "Apology  for  Raimond  de  Sabonde,"  which 
left  an  enduring  impression,  though  he  did  not  accept  its 
principle.  Among  other  books  were  Charles  Kingsley's  "The 
Saint's  Tragedy,"  Mrs.  Jameson's  "Characteristics  of  Shake- 
speare's Women,"  Colton's  "Lacon,"  then  a  work  much  in 
vogue,  and  throughout  the  summer  he  was  browsing  over 
Ruskin's  "Seven  Lamps  of  Architecture,"  impressed  by  Rus- 
kin's  larger  generalizations.  He  quotes  this  sentence  from 
Ruskin,  as  one  which  had  given  him  food  for  thought: 
"Landscape  seems  hardly  to  have  exercised  any  strong  in- 
fluence as  such  on  any  pagan  nation  or  artist."  We  can 
trace  the  influence  on  his  later  thought  of  lines  like  these 
from  Matthew  Arnold's  "Obermann: " 

Neither  made  man  too  much  a  God, 
Nor  God  too  much  a  man  ; 

or  a  verse  from  Tennyson :  — 

Oh,  the  deep  mind  of  danntleas  infancy. 

From  Bulwer,  whom  he  took  for  his  lighter  reading,  he  made 
suggestive  extracts,  finding  in  his  occasional  remarks  a  keen 
observation  of  life. 

In  everything  that  he  read  he  found  some  material  for  his 
note-book.  As  he  sat  in  the  accustomed  family  pew  at  St. 
Paul's,  listening  again  to  Dr.  Vinton,  who  could  hardly  have 
been  aware  of  the  thoughts  that  were  stirring  in  the  mind  of 
his  youthful  auditor,  he  heard  with  a  deeper  appreciation 
than  when  in  college.  Under  date  of  September  20,  1857, 
he  gives  him  credit  for  this  comparison,  "Aa  a  cord  is 
always  steadiest  when  it  is  stretched  to  its  fullest  tension ; " 
and  again,  "A  truth  strikes  his  mind  as  a  bullet  strikes  the 


.  21-22]      LIFE   IN  VIRGINIA  199 

rock,  with  no  effect  but  just  to  flatten  and  bruise  and  dull 
itself." 

Two  things  are  apparent  as  we  review  his  line  of  reading, 
that  he  kept  in  view  old  and  standard  authors,  as  having  a 
close  relation  to  a  true  development,  while  on  the  other  hand 
he  read  the  books  that  every  one  else  was  reading,  and  so 
kept  himself  in  sympathy  and  contact  with  his  own  time. 
He  does  not  seem  to  be  reading  anything  at  random  or  be- 
cause it  lay  near  his  hand,  but  he  knew  what  was  valuable  or 
what  it  was  important  that  he  should  possess  himself  of,  as 
by  some  subtle  instinct  of  an  awakening  soul.  Whatever  he 
read  he  appropriated,  and  made  his  own  by  this  habit  of 
writing  it  down  for  himself.  In  many  of  these  quotations  it 
almost  seems  as  if  he  were  speaking  and  not  the  author,  while 
in  other  extracts  we  may  trace  the  formative  hints  which  ulti- 
mated  in  their  fulness  in  his  preaching.  There  is  visible  also 
a  moral  purpose,  showing  that  the  conscience  was  touched  by 
his  reading  no  less  than  the  mind.  A  few  of  the  extracts 
will  illustrate  these  remarks :  — 

When  a  man  moralizes,  it  is  a  sign  that  he  has  known  error. 
Ends  which  make  the  poetry  of  deeds.  (Bulwer.) 

You  remember,  too,  the  famous  Nativity  by  some  Neapolitan 
painter,  who  had  placed  Mt.  Vesuvius  and  the  Bay  of  Naples  in 
the  background.  In  these  and  a  hundred  other  instances,  no 
one  seems  to  feel  that  the  apparent  absurdity  involves  the  highest 
truth,  and  that  the  sacred  beings  thus  represented,  if  once  allowed 
as  objects  of  faith  and  worship,  are  eternal  under  every  aspect 
and  independent  of  all  time  and  locality.  (Ruskin.) 

All  things  that  are  worth  doing  in  art  are  interesting  and  in- 
structive when  they  are  done.  There  is  no  law  of  art  that  conse- 
crates dulness.  The  proof  of  a  thing's  being  right  is  that  it  has 
power  to  obey  the  heart,  that  it  excites  us,  wins  us,  or  helps  us. 
(Ruskin.) 

And  striving  to  live  that  our  sons  and  our  sons'  sons  for  ages 
to  come  might  still  lead  their  children  reverently  to  the  doors 
out  of  which  we  had  been  carried  to  the  grave,  saying,  "  Look :  this 
was  his  house;  this  was  his  chamber."  (Ruskin.) 

Towards  the  end  of  the  summer,  when  preparations  were  in 
order  for  returning  to  the  theological  seminary,  he  made  some 
effort  to  find  another  place  of  study.  He  had  given  up  the 


200  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1857-58 

Philadelphia  Divinity  School  as  among  the  possibilities,  but 
had  heard  of  the  Berkeley  Divinity  School  in  Middletown, 
Conn.,  and  wished  to  know  what  it  was  like.  He  wrote  to 
his  friend  George  Strong,  who  was  somewhere  in  Connecti- 
cut, to  meet  him  at  the  hotel,  or  if  there  were  none,  at  the 
town  pump,  in  Middletown,  for  the  purpose  of  reconnoitring 
the  opportunities  the  school  afforded.  The  project  came 
to  nothing.  He  had  already  struck  root  in  Virginia,  and 
had  formed  friendships  too  valuable  to  be  sacrificed.  So  in 
the  fall  of  1857  to  Virginia  he  returned.  His  summer  at 
home  had  given  him  a  deeper  appreciation  of  its  sacred  ties. 
He  continued  to  write  regularly  as  before,  and  sometimes 
several  letters  a  week,  to  father  or  mother,  or  to  his  brother 
William,  — letters  which  indicate  the  strength  of  the  home- 
consciousness  and  its  prominence  in  his  mind.  The  year 
1857  was  one  of  financial  depression  and  distress,  the  most 
severe  trial  to  business  interests  the  country  had  known. 
His  father  felt  the  strain,  as  is  shown  by  his  frequent  allu- 
sions to  the  subject  in  his  letters  to  his  son. 

THEOLOOICAL  SEMINARY,  Wednesday  evening,  October,  1857. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  will  write  a  few  lines  to-night  just  to  say 
that  I  am  well,  for  there  really  isn't  anything  else  to  say.  We 
are  away  out  of  the  world  here,  and  only  accidentally  now  and 
then  get  hold  of  a  newspaper  to  let  us  know  that  everybody  is 
failing  all  around.  I  have  n't  seen  Charles  Brooks  &  Co.  an- 
nounced yet.  Please  let  me  know  when  you  go,  for  it  would  be 
a  little  startling  to  see  the  first  announcement  of  it  in  the  "Inde- 
pendent's "  list.  I  see  the  Boston  banks  have  suspended.  I  got  a 
letter  from  William  last  night,  but  he  was  most  wonderfully  chary 
of  all  news  of  the  crisis.  But  it  was  a  very  interesting  letter,  and 
please  tell  him  he  shall  hear  from  me  as  soon  as  I  feel  equal  to 
writing  him  an  answer  worthy  of  it.  I  wrote  a  long  letter  to 
George  the  other  day.  When  do  you  expect  him  home?  We 
have  just  been  having  a  quiet  private  tea,  four  of  us,  up  in  Dr. 
Richards' s  room.  I  imagine  Mother  would  have  laughed  some,  and 
perhaps  been  shocked  a  little,  at  the  primitiveness  of  some  of  our 
arrangements. 

I  assure  you,  Father,  that  when  I  began  this  letter  I  had  no 
mercenary  views.  But  Dr.  Richards  has  just  been  in  in  great  doubt 
how  in  the  present  state  of  things  to  send  on  the  subscription  price 


*rr.  21-22]      LIFE  IN  VIRGINIA  201 

for  the  new  "Atlantic  Monthly  "  for  our  reading  room.  May 
I  ask  you  to  subscribe  (or  get  William  to)  for  it  at  Phillips  & 
Sampson's,  and  consider  the  amount  remitted  to  me.  I  went 

this  afternoon  to  call  on  Miss ,  though  I  hesitated  a  little,  as 

her  father,  of  the  house  of &  Co.,  has  just  failed  for  be- 
tween $200,000  and  $300,000.  I  understand  that  he  hasn't 
really  lost  much  though,  having  handed  over  the  greater  part  of 

his  property  to some  time  before.     Shabby !     It  is  snapping 

cold  here  to-day.  Winter  is  right  on  us.  Tell  William  the 
raglan  makes  a  decided  sensation  on  King  Street,  Alexandria. 
.  .  .  Much  love  to  all. 

Your  affectionate  son,  PHILLIPS. 

You  can  hardly  imagine  how  disagreeable  it  is  to  get  back 
again  among  Southern  men  after  New  England.  Shopkeepers, 
railroad  men,  omnibus  drivers,  everybody,  is  above  his  business 
and  takes  your  ticket  or  sells  you  your  goods  as  a  personal 
favor. 

Friday,  November  20,  1857. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  — ...  I  took  the  liberty  of  addressing  to 
you  a  few  words  in  father's  letter  the  other  day  on  a  subject 
which  I  thought  might  possess  a  melancholy  interest,  the  engage- 
ment of  Miss .  I  fear  it  is  an  overtrue  tale.  Read  a  little 

Tennyson  and  get  over  it  the  best  you  can.  We  have  had  snow 
here.  What  do  you  think  of  that  for  us,  the  balmy  ?  To-day  it 
is  clear,  bright,  and  cold  as  one  could  wish.  Night  before  last 
Thalberg,  Vieuxtemps,  and  Max  Strakosch  astonished  the  people 
of  Alexandria  with  a  concert.  We  had  the  "Carnival  of  Venice  " 
and  "Within  a  Mile  of  Edinboro'  Town  "  and  "Coming  thro'  the 
Rye  "  in  the  old  style,  in  a  little  garret-looking  hall  on  Cameron 
Street,  where  all  the  fashion  and  intelligence  ...  of  the  dead 
little  town  were  assembled.  I  walked  six  miles,  three  there  and 
three  back,  and  was  fully  repaid.  "The  season  "  in  Virginia  is  in 
full  blast  now.  I  have  been  to  one  big  party  and  two  little  ones ; 
each  only  equalled  in  stupidity  by  the  other.  What  should  you 
think  of  the  prettiest  young  lady  in  Fairfax  Co.  congratulating 
you  upon  your  name  and  telling  you  that  P.  S.  Brooks,  the  un- 
justifiable homicide,  was  her  ideal  of  a  man  ?  A  little  tough  per- 
haps !  .  .  .  Tell  our  brother  G.  that  if  I  ever  owed  him  a  debt 
of  gratitude  which  it  would  be  presumptuous  to  hope  ever  to  pay 
it  was  when  he  forgot  (?)  to  fulfil  his  promise,  and  let  me  know 
of  our  magnificent  cousin's  presence  in  Washington.  It  saved  me 
an  expenditure  of  care  and  cash  which  it  makes  me  shudder  to 
contemplate.  ...  I  went  to  see  Miss  ,  but  she  was  out. 


202  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1857-58 

By  the  way,  she  is  quite  the  belle  this  winter,  and  has  cultivated 
ringlets  during  the  summer  which  make  her  look  prettier  than 
ever.  They  give  a  reception  there  every  Thursday  night  with 
" babble  and  revel  and  wine"  (so  to  speak),  which  is  attended 
by  all  the  (Alex.)  world,  including  of  course  your  most  obedient. 
...  I  am  happy  to  infer  from  sundry  allusions  of  our  brothers 
that  the  Tennyson  fever  still  continues,  with  some  symptoms  also 
of  the  Browning  distemper.  I  quite  pride  myself  on  my  convert. 
Suppose  you  proceed  and  try  your  hand  on  George.  Have  you  read 
the  first  number  of  Thackeray's  new  novel,  "The  Virginians"? 
It  opens  well,  but  I  am  sorry  he  has  put  it  a  hundred  years  ago, 
and  sorrier  still  that  he  has  located  it  in  this  corner  of  the  world. 
He  seems  to  have  been  studying  up  on  Virginia,  and  has  all  the 
old  families,  the  Washingtons  and  Randolphs  and  Fairfaxes,  in 
the  first  number.  How  capital  Lowell's  verses  are  in  the  "  Atlan- 
tic." I  am  still  in  doubt  whether  to  go  to  Cincinnati  at  Christ- 
mas. Dr.  Richards's  eyes  have  cut  him  off  from  work,  and  I 
should  n't  wonder  if  he  went  home  within  a  week.  So  that  if  I 
go  I  shall  go  on  with  Strong.  But  I  don't  believe  I  shall  go  at 
all.  I  have  a  sort  of  half  invitation,  which  I  suppose  I  could 
easily  ripen  into  a  whole  one,  to  spend  the  vacation  at  the  guber- 
natorial mansion  in  Richmond. 

Monday,  December  7, 1857. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  received  a  line  from  you  in  William's  let- 
ter of  Saturday  and  also  a  few  words  from  Mother.  Much  obliged 
for  William's  letter.  Tell  him  I  will  answer  it  one  of  these  days. 
I  had  given  up  before  I  got  yours  all  thoughts  of  spending  Christ- 
mas  anywhere  except  just  here,  and  shall  pick  a  quiet  bone  very 
contentedly  with  Mrs.  Bland.  Dr.  Richards  has  gone  home,  and 
Strong  is  going  in  about  two  weeks,  but  I  have  definitely  declined 
his  invitation.  As  to  Governor  Wise,  I  don't  think  it  is  hardly 
safe  to  trust  myself  much  farther  into  the  State  of  Virginia  after 
the  last  article  in  the  last  number  of  the  "Atlantic."  But  really 
I  don't  feel  as  if  I  could  spare  the  time  to  be  away  even  if  nothing 
else  prevented.  So  here  I  stick.  Everything  here  goes  on  qui- 
etly. Congress  meets,  I  believe,  to-day,  though  considering  that 
it  is  only  eight  miles  off,  I  feel  quite  ashamed  of  knowing  so  lit- 
tle of  what  is  going  on  in  Washington.  I  haven't  been  up  there 
for  six  weeks.  I  am  sorry  that  you  have  given  up  your  idea  of  a 
visit  there  this  winter,  but  suppose  I  must  submit  with  the  best 
grace  I  can  to  what  is  making  everybody  submit  just  now.  Has 

Mr.  really  swindled  ?     Alexandria  stuck-upiness  has  had  to 

give  in  to  the  times,  and  they  take  one  dollar  bills  (when  they  can 


*r.  21-22]       LIFE   IN   VIRGINIA  203 

get  them)  without  regard  to  the  law.  They  have  also  issued  ones, 
twos,  and  threes,  and  also  sixes,  sevens,  eights,  etc.,  dating  them 
ten  years  back  to  avoid  the  laws  which  have  been  passed  within 
that  time.  .  .  . 

Your  affectionate  son,  PHILLIPS  BROOKS. 

December  17, 1857. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  received  your  letter  last  night,  and  you  will 
no  doubt  be  inclined  to  lay  it  to  some  selfish  motives  on  my  part 
that  I  answer  it  so  punctually.  Well,  perhaps  you  are  right,  for 
I  must  own  that  I  am  in  want  of  a  little  money  and  should  be 
obliged  greatly  if  you  could  send  me  a  few  dollars.  I  know  that  at 
twenty- two  I  ought  to  be  earning  it  myself,  but  it  isn't  my  fault 
that  I  am  twenty-two,  however  much  the  other  part  may  be.  I 
am  getting  very  economical.  You  see  I  have  given  up  expensive 
paper,  and  I  wear  patched  shoes  and  old  clothes  in  a  style  most 
admirably  befitting  my  income.  Just  now  I  am  rather  on  the 
sick  list,  having  been  laid  up  a  day  or  two  with  a  sort  of  neuralgia 
that  has  tied  my  face  up  in  a  hard  knot  and  tucked  the  ends  in  in 
a  most  vexatious  style.  I  am  getting  much  better,  however,  and 
except  for  a  good  deal  of  weakness  and  general  good-for-nothing- 
ness,  am  pretty  near  myself  again.  Vacation  begins  next  week, 
and  then  I  shall  have  time  enough  to  recruit.  .  .  .  The  "Atlan- 
tic, "  with  its  belligerent  article,  reached  here  without  being  inter- 
cepted, and  I  put  it  into  the  Reading- Room  with  a  good  deal  of 
curiosity  as  to  what  would  come  of  it.  In  a  day  or  two  it  was 
missing,  removed,  no  doubt,  by  some  of  our  liberal-minded  Southern 
friends.  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  inquiring  for  it  in  public,  but 
so  far  it  has  not  been  heard  from.  It  was  a  good  article,  and  it 
seems  to  me  it  was  well  to  publish  it,  for  as  matters  are  now, 
everybody  has  got  to  take  his  place  on  one  side  or  the  other  of  the 
great  question,  and  it  is  all  nonsense  to  pretend  to  be  neutral  about 
it.  It  is  amusing  to  see  how  the  Southern  weathercock  has  turned 

on  Douglas.    Miss told  me,  "What  a  pity  that  he  has  joined 

the  Black  Republicans."  Evidently  her  views  were  not  very  clear 
as  to  what  the  B.  R.  were  or  what  Mr.  Douglas  had  done.  I 
have  not  been  to  Washington  yet,  and  shall  have  to  wait  now  for 
your  money  before  I  have  a  look  at  the  wise  body. 

Your  affectionate  son,  P.  B. 

Friday,  December  18,  1857. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  As  I  still  continue  to  be  laid  up  more  or 
less,  and  my  eyes  hinder  me  from  reading,  I  don't  know  that  I  can 
employ  a  half  an  hour  better  than  by  writing  a  little  to  you,  but 


204  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1857-58 

you  must  excuse  the  looks,  for  I  shall  have  to  write  the  greater 
part  without  looking  on.  I  have  had  a  good  deal  of  trouble 
with  my  eyes  this  term,  and  have  feared  now  and  then  that  they 
would  fail  me  altogether.  Just  now  I  am  shut  off  from  them 
almost  entirely,  and  you  can  imagine  how  stupid  it  is.  Otherwise 
everything  here  is  just  as  it  has  always  been.  Virginia  gets  no 
more  prosperous  and  if  possible  a  little  more  wretched  every  day. 
Just  now  they  have  patrols  out  to  look  after  unruly  slaves,  which 
it  seems  is  an  annual  custom  about  Christmas  time,  —  a  pleasant 
little  way  of  keeping  up  the  festival.  I  think  if  you  had  lived 
here  for  one  year  you  would  approve  as  heartily  as  I  do  of  the 
capital  anti-slavery  article  in  the  hut  "Atlantic."  I  wonder  who 
wrote  it.  Our  fire-eating  friends  here  apparently  find  it  a  hard 
morsel  to  digest.  Much  obliged  to  you  for  Douglas's  speech; 
there  is  no  knowing  but  there  may  be  some  little  good  in  him 
yet.  I  got  last  night  a  paper  of  December  2.  I  am  not  par- 
ticular to  keep  very  close  up  with  the  times,  but  I  like  just  to  be 
within  a  week  or  so.  ... 

A  few  glimpses  into  the  family  circle  where  these  letters 
were  eagerly  welcomed  will  show  more  clearly  than  we  have 
yet  seen  those  formative  influences  in  the  life  of  Phillips 
Brooks  which  were  more  potent  than  any  others.  The  father 
and  the  mother  appear  in  the  numerous  letters  written  to 
Phillips  in  Virginia  to  be  deeply  concerned  that  the  older 
boys,  who  are  now  making  their  start  in  life,  should  be  gov- 
erned by  high  principle,  by  sincere  devotion  to  the  highest 
ideals  of  conduct.  This  parental  anxiety  and  sense  of  re- 
sponsibility followed  Phillips  in  every  letter  he  received  from 
home.  It  was  not  taken  for  granted  that  because  he  was 
studying  for  the  ministry  he  had  outgrown  the  necessity  of 
a  father's  care  or  the  saving  influence  of  a  mother's  love. 
He  was  still  a  child,  to  be  watched  over  and  warned  and 
stimulated  to  greater  exertion.  At  this  time  William,  the 
older  son,  was,  as  has  been  said,  engaged  in  business,  and  the 
three  younger  children  were  doing  well  at  school,  diligent  in 
study  and  ambitious  to  excel.  The  chief  anxiety  was  felt 
regarding  George,  the  third  son.  He  had  just  returned 
from  a  summer  experiment  at  farming,  intending  to  pass  the 
winter  at  home.  Both  father  and  mother  were  very  fond  of 
George,  as  were  all  his  brothers.  He  was  a  manly  fellow, 


MT.  21-22]      LIFE   IN   VIRGINIA  205 

singularly  attractive,  good  company  at  home,  but  there  was  in 
his  case,  as  in  Phillips's,  some  hitch  in  his  inner  experience. 
He  had  not  yet  gone  forward  for  confirmation  and  manifested 
no  interest  in  religion.  Phillips  is  appealed  to  to  exert  his 
influence  upon  him,  and  to  write  to  him,  in  hopes  that  George 
will  be  moved  by  his  appeals.  Here  are  a  few  extracts  from 
his  mother's  letters  during  those  autumn  months  of  1857 :  — 

October  20,  1857. 

MY  DEAR  PHILLY,  —  I  am  thinking  of  you  continually  and  we 
cannot  be  done  missing  you,  and  it  is  so  cheering  to  get  news  of 
you.  I  wish  I  could  look  into  your  room  and  see  if  you  look  com- 
fortable, and  how  you  have  arranged  your  clothes.  ...  I  hope 
you  will  find  some  pleasant  friends  among  the  new  students.  Also 
I  hope  you  will  improve  this  pleasant  weather  to  walk  a  good  deal 
and  enjoy  this  beautiful  weather.  .  .  .  Have  you  written  to 
Georgey  since  you  left  us?  ...  I  have  the  good  news  to  tell 
you  that  he  is  intending  to  come  home  soon.  .  .  .  The  thought 
of  having  him  at  home  is  delightful,  and  he  seems  very  happy  at 
the  thought  of  seeing  us  again.  Father  seems  very  glad  to  get 
him  home  again  so  soon.  .  .  .  Write  again  soon,  and  tell  us  all 
about  yonrself,  and  what  you  are  doing  this  year  in  your  studies. 
You  don't  know  how  much  we  think  and  talk  of  you,  and  desire 
your  well-doing  in  every  respect.  Keep  very  near  to  your  Sav- 
iour, dear  Philly,  and  remember  the  sacred  vows  that  are  upon 
you,  and  you  will  surely  prosper.  Good-night,  my  dear  Philly, 
and  pleasant  dreams.  Whether  waking  or  sleeping,  never  forget 

Your  ever  loving  Mother. 

The  father  writes  these  two  letters :  — 

October  27, 1857. 

MY  DEAR  SON,  —  ...  A  letter  from  George  to-day  mentions 
receiving  one  from  you  which  he  seems  very  thankful  for.  I  hope 
you  have  not  forgotten  my  request  about  writing  to  him  and  your 
example  and  influence  upon  him.  .  .  .  Your  request  about  the 
magazine  I  have  cheerfully  complied  with.  [The  reference  is  to  the 
first  issue  of  the  "Atlantic  Monthly,"  which  was  an  important 
event  in  the  Brooks  household.]  It  is  beautifully  printed.  .  .  . 
Let  me  know  your  opinion  of  it.  ...  You  ask  about  the  "times. " 
Bad  enough,  no  improvement,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  and  I  cannot 
see  a  prospect  of  any  before  spring.  .  .  .  Will  has  been  edified 
to-day  listening  to  Caleb  Gushing  at  Faneuil  Hall  expounding  De- 
mocracy and  upholding  the  administration  and  Southern  principle* 


206  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1857-58 

and  doctrines.  Election  comes  off  next  Tuesday,  and  did  I  not 
consider  it  the  indispensable  duty  of  every  citizen  to  vote,  I  should 
dodge  the  question.  .  .  .  Write  often,  and  remember  you  are 
never  for  a  moment  forgotten  in  the  family  circle.  Improve  your 
time  faithfully  in  your  noble  calling,  and  that  you  may  improve 
is  the  constant  prayer  of  your 

Affectionate  father. 

BOSTON,  Wednesday,  November  4,  1857. 

DEAR  PHILLIPS,  — At  my  desk  in  Dock  Square  I  will  remind 
you  by  a  letter  of  home,  and  just  let  you  know  what  we  are  about 
and  what  I  know  you  will  be  glad  to  hear.  I  shall  let  William 
tell  you  of  the  election  yesterday.  It  was  Banks  all  over,  all 
through,  and  all  round.  ...  I  was  much  inclined  to  throw  away 
my  vote,  but  like  a  good  citizen  I  went  to  the  polls  and  voted  for 
the  unsuccessful  candidate,  which  was  in  fact  throwing  away  my 
vote.  So  much  for  politics,  poor  business  in  the  most  successful 
times. 

Mother  has  been  at  her  good  deeds  for  you  to-day,  making  up 
a  sweet  package  to  send  by  George  Sampson.  .  .  .  He  offered  to 
take  anything  for  you,  and  Mother  has  taken  up  with  it.  You 
have  a  good  Mother,  Phillips ;  value  her  while  you  have  her,  and 
God  grant  you  may  never  feel  the  want  of  one. 

It  is  evident  from  the  following  passage  of  the  same  letter 
that  the  father  did  not  encourage  Phillips  in  his  dissatisfac- 
tion with  the  Virginia  seminary.  He  was  more  contented 
there  in  his  second  year,  but  the  father  thinks  it  necessary 
to  give  him  some  advice  upon  the  point. 

I  also  hope  you  are  enjoying  your  studies  and  your  situation 
and  your  advantages.  Although  perhaps  you  would  change  them 
somewhat,  still  they  are  great,  and  I  want  you  to  feel  that  you 
ought  to  make  the  most  of  them.  I  am  glad  you  find  some  more 
agreeable  companions,  and  that  you  still  enjoy  the  companionship 
of  Richards  and  Strong. 

Presume  you  received  the  magazine  [the  "Atlantic  Monthly  "] 
from  here.  It  is  variously  criticised,  as  you  see  in  the  papers. 
For  myself  I  am  disappointed  with  it;  it  was  not  up  to  the  mark. 

The  package  of  sweet  things  was  not  sent  after  all.  The 
mother  took  it  to  Joy  Street,  but  George  Sampson  had  not 
room  for  it  in  his  trunk.  Her  labor  of  love  was  lost,  and 
she  writes,  "You  could  not  have  felt  half  so  disappointed  as 


MT.  21-22]      LIFE   IN   VIRGINIA  207 

I  did."     The  mother,  also,  it  will  be  seen,  sympathized  more 
deeply  with  her  son   in  his  dissatisfaction  at  the  seminary 

than  did  his  father. 

November  12, 1857. 

MY  DEAREST  PHILLIPS,  — ...  I  would  give  a  good  deal  that 
you  were  here  with  Georgey.  We  are  indeed  glad  to  welcome 
him  home  again,  and  he  is  somewhat  petted,  I  confess,  and  if  you 
were  here  you  should  be  petted  too.  He  has  altered  very  little  and 
is  as  clever  as  ever.  .  .  .  The  boys  are  doing  very  well  in  their 
school.  Fred  stands  at  the  head  of  his  division,  Arthur  second, 
and  William  is  faithful  in  drilling  Master  John,  who  gets  along 
nicely. 

How  much  I  would  give  to  look  in  upon  you,  Philly !  We  feel 
very  sorry  that  you  do  not  find  things  improved  upon  last  year. 
I  am  sure  I  don't  see  what  can  be  done  to  mend  matters.  I 
don't  see  what  the  professors  can  mean  by  allowing  things  to  be 
in  such  a  dronish  state.  ...  I  wish  you  would  think,  Philly,  to 
date  your  letters ;  mine  had  no  date  whatever.  .  .  .  Oh,  I  am  so 
sorry  you  did  not  get  that  box.  .  .  .  Do  write  soon,  for  we  are 
always  longing  to  hear  from  you.  Good-by,  dear  Philly;  take 
good  care  of  yourself,  get  along  as  well  as  you  can,  and  never  for- 
get that  your  very  best  friend  is 

Your  devoted  Mother. 

These  next  extracts  from  the  father's  letters  refer  to  his 
son's  twenty-second  birthday,  and  also  touch  upon  practical 
points,  — the  son's  sensitiveness  in  asking  for  money  and  the 
critical  situation  in  the  South,  of  which  Phillips  had  given 
a  hint  in  his  account  of  the  reception  accorded  to  the  new 
"Atlantic  Monthly"  in  the  Virginia  seminary:  — 

BOSTON,  December  12,  1857. 

.  .  .  Without  recurring  to  my  family  genealogy  I  think  that 
I  may  assume  that  to-morrow  is  your  birthday.  How  fast  they 
come ;  and  the  older  you  grow,  my  dear  son,  the  faster  they  will 
flee  along.  The  best  present  that  we  can  give  you  is  the  wish 
that  every  succeeding  one  may  be  happier  than  its  predecessors. 
Improve  them  all,  that  they  may  be  looked  back  upon  as  mile- 
stones in  your  journey  that  you  have  passed  safely  and  pleasantly. 
You  will  soon  be  taking  your  station,  and  God  grant  that  station 
may  be  one  of  eminence  and  to  be  well  filled,  be  it  ever  so  high. 
Our  hopes  and  good  wishes  are  with  you,  my  son,  and  let  them  all 
be  more  than  realized.  I  know  you  will  strive  to  gratify  us. 


ao8  PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [1857-58 

To-morrow  is   the  Sabbath,    and  we  shall   think  much  of  you. 
Your  birthday  was  Sunday,  I  well  recollect. 

BOBTOK,  December  21, 1867. 

.  .  .  Your  request  for  money  was  very  reasonable,  and  I  wish 
you  would  not  feel  so  bad  about  asking  when  you  want.  I  should 
feel  better  pleased  if  you  would  tell  how  much,  for  I  never  know 
how  much  to  send.  I  think  yon  have  grown  very  economical,  not 
that  I  think  you  were  ever  extravagant.  ...  I  note  your  re- 
marks on  politics,  etc.  All  very  well  to  keep  posted  on  such 
matters,  but  I  want  you  to  be  aware  (for  I  am  afraid  you  are  not) 
of  the  importance  of  acting  discreetly  on  all  matters  between  the 
North  and  the  South,  remembering  it  is  a  delicate  subject  on  both 
sides.  I  do  not  think  it  was  wise  or  discreet  in  the  "Atlan- 
tic Monthly  "  to  publish  such  an  article  in  such  a  magazine,  but 
they  must  abide  by  the  result.  Standing  here  on  Northern  soil, 
it  is  all  well  enough,  but  I  can  see  how  the  South  would  view  it, 
and  I  wish  to  impress  it  earnestly  upon  you  not  to  enter  into  the 
discussion  there.  It  can  do  you  no  good,  and  may  do  you  much 
harm,  if  not  positive  evil.  You  know  I  have  expressed  this  be- 
fore, but  the  tenor  of  your  letter  impresses  me  with  the  idea  that 
you  are  too  regardless  of  consequences.  ...  It  was  a  very  small 
and  despicable  act  to  remove  the  magazine  from  the  room,  and 
shows  the  weakness  of  their  cause;  but  after  the  fact  was  well 
known,  there  I  should  leave  it  in  a  Christian  spirit,  and  I  believe 
it  would  do  them  more  harm  than  good.  /  shall  depend  on  your 
acting  discreetly  and  cautiously  in  the  matter. 

A  great  tide  of  love  was  sweeping  through  the  mother's 
soul  as  she  wrote  the  letter  that  follows.  Her  power  of  lov- 
ing, deep  and  strong  and  enduring,  constituted  one  element 
of  her  greatness,  and  this  characteristic  descended  to  her  son, 
to  be  manifest  when  the  time  had  come. 

BOSTON,  December  10,  Saturday  erening. 

MY  VERT  DEAR  CHILD,  —  I  have  stolen  away  from  the  parlor, 
and  the  girls  and  the  boys,  and  the  closing  Saturday  night  cares, 
into  the  nursery  to  write  to  you ;  to  send  you  my  wishes  for  a 
happy  Christmas,  and  the  enclosed  ten  dollars  for  a  Christmas 
present,  and  I  sincerely  wish  it  was  in  my  power  to  double  it. 
You  must  take  it  as  a  gift  of  love  from  your  mother,  who  loves 
you  ten  thousand  times  more  than  she  can  ever  tell  yon,  or  than 
you  can  ever  know.  As  Christmas  Day  returns  again  I  shall  think 
very  much  of  the  pleasant  one  I  spent  with  you  last  year,  and 


SET.  21-22]       LIFE   IN   VIRGINIA  209 

especially  of  the  happiness  and  gratitude  I  felt  on  first  taking  com- 
munion with  you.  Oh,  it  was  a  happy  day,  and  my  heart  was 
full  of  gratitude  that  I  had  lived  to  see  my  child  confess  his  Sav- 
iour before  men.  God  grant  that  as  long  as  life  shall  last,  he 
may  be  his  faithful  disciple  and  devoted  servant.  And  although 
we  shall  not  be  with  you  this  year,  Philly,  I  want  you  to  enjoy 
the  day,  and  think  of  us,  and  therefore  I  want  you  for  my  sake 
to  go  into  Washington  to  church,  and,  oh,  when  you  take  commun- 
ion, remember  your  mother.  And  after  church  I  want  you  to 
go  to  Wittard's  or  somewhere,  and  get  a  good  Christmas  dinner, 
with  some  of  my  present,  and  then  when  the  children  are  enjoying 
their  roast  turkey,  they  can  think  that  Philly  has  some  too.  Now, 
Philly,  won't  you  do  all  this  for  me?  —  and  I  shall  think  of  you 
on  that  day  as  doing  it,  and  enjoying  a  part  of  my  present.  We 
shall  think  and  talk  much  of  you  on  that  day,  and  miss  you,  and 
long  to  have  you  with  us,  and  I  know  you  will  think  of  us. 

I  thank  you  a  thousand  times  for  the  letter  I  received  from  you 
this  week,  and  how  can  you  say  there  is  nothing  in  it,  when  it  is 
full  of  kind  words  to  me? 

I  have  just  written  as  far  as  this,  and  William  has  brought  in 
a  letter  from  you  to  your  father,  saying  you  have  been  sick,  and 
are  in  need  of  money.  So  I  am  very  glad  to  send  you  my  gift, 
and  father  will  send  you  some  more ;  and  I  want  you  to  use  my 
sum  for  any  little  thing  you  may  need  if  you  are  not  well ;  and  I 
would  get  some  apples  to  keep  in  your  room.  I  don't  want  you 
to  feel  so  badly  as  you  seem  to  feel  about  asking  for  money  when 
you  need  it ;  for  we  know  you  are  very  prudent,  and  grow  more  so, 
and  that  you  of  course  must  have  it ;  and  we  should  feel  very  anx- 
ious if  we  thought  you  were  without  any  so  far  away  from  us. 
So  do  always  let  us  know,  without  feeling  bad,  whenever  you  need 
it,  won't  you?  And  it  troubles  me  very  much  to  think  you  have 
been  sick,  and  perhaps  are  so  now,  and  you  have  not  had  anybody 
to  take  care  of  you.  Oh,  if  I  could  have  been  there.  Was  it 
from  a  bad  tooth?  if  so  I  would  have  it  taken  out.  Haven't  you 
suffered  dreadfully  ?  Do  take  care  of  yourself,  as  you  say,  in  the 
vacation,  and  recruit.  I  hope  you  have  not  had  rheumatism.  I 
think  you  had  better  put  on  your  thick  winter  underwaists  and 
socks,  and  all  your  thick  things.  Do  take  care  of  yourself,  and 
depend  on  it  I  think  a  great  deal  about  you.  .  .  .  Philly,  I  will 
say  how  much  you  have  improved  in  your  character  and  in  your 
letters  the  last  year.  We  both  notice  it,  and  I  believe  you  will 
be  a  blessing  and  honor  to  us  in  our  future  years.  May  you  be  a 
faithful  laborer  in  Christ's  vineyard,  and  then  we  shall  feel  that 
all  the  money  you  have  ever  had  has  been  well  invested. 


210  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1857-58 

George  says  you  must  write  to  him  in  your  vacation.  Does  it 
begin  on  Monday,  and  how  long?  And  now,  Philly,  be  sure  and 
do  as  I  request  on  Christmas  Day,  and  I  hope  you  '11  enjoy  your 
church  and  your  dinner,  and  we  shall  think  of  you.  And  write 
soon  and  tell  us  if  you  get  this  safely,  and  how  you  do,  and  all 
about  your  Christmas.  And  now,  my  dear  child,  good-night,  with 
many  kind  wishes  for  a  happy  one,  from  your  dear,  devoted 

MOTHER. 

To  this,  and  to  the  letter  from  his  father,  Phillips  wrote  in 
reply,  deeply  moved,  and  for  once  yielding  his  profound  and 
almost  invincible  reserve.  He  explains  why  it  is  he  has  not 
yet  spoken  the  words  his  parents  must  have  long  yearned  to 
hear,  but  he  can  write  when  he  cannot  speak.  His  expla- 
nation throws  light  upon  a  feature  of  his  character  which  to 
the  last  baffled  his  friends :  — 

Christmas  Eve,  1857. 

DEAR  FATHER  (and  Mother,  too,  for  the  mail  to-night  has 
brought  so  much  to  thank  you  both  for  that  this  note  must  be  a 
joint  affair),  —  First  there  is  the  composite  letter  of  Saturday, 
enclosing  your  Christmas  presents,  which  the  post  office  seems  to 
have  delayed  so  as  to  reach  me  just  in  time.  I  shan't  begin  to 
thank  you  both  for  your  kindness,  for  in  my  utter  inability  to  say 
how  much  I  feel  it  I  should  never  know  where  to  stop.  It  is 
only  a  piece  of  the  long  series  of  goodnesses  that  I  have  been 
grateful  or  ungrateful  for,  for  the  hist  twenty-two  years.  If  I 
ever  can  do  anything  to  give  pleasure  or  credit  to  you,  a  big  part 
of  the  gratification  to  myself  will  be  in  feeling  that  you  are  grati- 
fied, and  are  so  adding  to  your  other  kindnesses  that  of  taking 
my  own  efforts  to  help  and  improve  myself  as  payment  for  your 
long  labor  to  help  and  improve  me.  You  may  have  thought  it 
a  little  strange  now  and  then  that  I  haven't  said  this  by  word  of 
mouth,  but  the  truth  is  I  can  write  what  I  feel  deeply  much 
easier  and  better  than  I  can  say  it;  but  the  feeling,  I  at  least 
know,  is  none  the  less  deep  for  that.  Let  this  explain  a  great 
deal  of  what  you  may  have  fancied  is  coldness  in  all  my  life,  and 
more  particularly  in  my  new  profession.  In  truth  I  do  thank  you 
sincerely  for  your  holiday  remembrances,  and  they  will  certainly 
make  Christmas  a  great  deal  merrier  to  me. 

Then  next,  there  is  another  letter  from  Mother  with  a  great 
deal  of  anxiety  about  my  eyes.  They  have  troubled  me  a  great 
deal  and  do  so  still,  though  not  quite  so  much.  I  don't  know 
just  what  to  lay  it  to,  perhaps  hard  work,  perhaps  not,  but  you 


MT.  21-22]      LIFE   IN   VIRGINIA  211 

may  depend  on  my  being  very  careful  of  them,  and  doing  and 
sparing  them  all  that  I  can  see  to  be  necessary.  I  would  like 
much  to  follow  your  suggestion  about  Christmas  in  Washington, 
but  before  I  got  your  letter  I  had  accepted  the  kind  invitation  of 
a  lady  here  to  see  a  real  old-fashioned  Virginia  Christmas  at  her 
house,  and  shall  have  to  keep  my  engagement.  I  am  rather 
doubtful  how  I  shall  enjoy  it,  but  it  will  do  no  harm  to  try.  You 
shall  have  the  result.  My  face  trouble  is  all  gone,  and  I  am  as 
chipper  as  a  bird.  Vacation  works  off  slowly  and  pleasantly. 
There  is  hardly  anybody  here,  and  I  see  nothing  of  those  that 
are,  keeping  clear  of  Alexandria  and  pretty  close  to  my  room. 
So  you  needn't  worry  about  my  state,  mentally  or  bodily.  Of 
course  pecuniarily  now  I  am  rolling  in  luxury.  It  is  rather  late 
for  "Merry  Christmas,"  but  the  happiest  of  Happy  New  Years  to 
all.  Tell  George  the  way  he  gets  off  from  writing  letters  in  di- 
recting other  people's  is  shabby.  Once  more,  with  many  thanks 
for  your  kind  and  welcome  gifts,  I  am 

Your  affectionate  son,  PHILLIPS. 

This  letter  has  been  endorsed  in  his  mother's  handwriting, 
"A  dear  letter.  Mother."  His  father  at  once  replied:  — 

December  30,  1857. 

DEAR  PHILLIPS,  — ...  I  will  say  a  few  words  in  acknow- 
ledgment of  your  very  acceptable  letter  of  this  week,  written  on 
Christmas  Eve.  We  were  much  pleased  with  it.  ...  You  were 
not  forgotten  on  Christmas  Day,  I  assure  you,  and  we  truly  wished 
you  had  been  amongst  us.  .  .  .  Dr.  Vinton  gave  an  excellent 
discourse,  and  the  day  being  pleasant  but  cold,  we  had  a  very 
large  audience,  not  a  vacant  seat  to  be  seen.  We  wanted  you  at 
the  Communion  Table  with  us.  ...  Your  Mother  has  gone  this 
afternoon  to  the  exhibition  of  the  Chauncy  Hall  School  to  please 
John.  I  looked  in  there  as  I  came  along,  and  found  the  Tremont 
Temple  crowded,  and  there  was  Jack  on  the  front  settee  with  his 
feet  on  the  front  bar,  as  contentedly  listening  to  the  speaking  as 
you  can  imagine.  It  has  been  a  great  time  for  him,  and  he  put 
in  it  heart  and  soul,  as  much  as  some  Latin  School  boys  I  have 
seen  when  Socrates  was  the  theme.1  .  .  . 

I  have  scratched  this  in  haste  after  the  labors  of  the  day,  but 
if  it  serves  to  remind  you  of  the  love  and  affection  of  your  Fa- 
ther, the  end  is  accomplished. 

1  A  reference  to  his  graduation  from  the  Latin  School,  when  he  took  Socratea 
as  the  subject  of  his  oration. 


PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [1857-58 

All  at  home  send  love,  and  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  how 
delighted  your  Mother  was  with  your  last  letter. 

Yours  affectionately,  W.  G.  B. 

How  his  mother  felt  on  reading  the  letter  of  Phillips  which 
broke  the  long  reserve  is  seen  in  her  reply :  — 

January  11, 1858. 

MY  DEAR  PHILLT,  —  I  thank  you  for  that  letter ;  it  is  a  trea- 
sure to  me,  it  is  so  full  of  love  and  kindness.  It  tells  us  all  we 
want  to  know,  that  you  realize  your  parents'  deep  interest  in  you, 
and  that  you  promise  us  the  richest  reward  you  can  give  us,  — 
that  of  bringing  us  honor  in  after  life.  And  also  you  have  con- 
vinced us  that  you  have  a  warm  and  kind  heart,  and  that  your 
heart  is  in  your  profession.  Not  that  I  have  ever  doubted  it,  for 
I  have  always  felt  that  you  are  too  sincere  and  true-hearted  to 
dare  undertake  so  holy  a  calling  except  with  your  whole  heart ; 
hut  I '  vt-  sometimes  wished  you  would  make  it  doubly  sure  to  me 
by  assuring  me  of  it  yourself,  and  I  've  felt  you  owed  it  to  your- 
self to  do  so.  But,  my  dear  Philly,  this  letter  satisfies  me 
entirely  on  that  point,  and  I  cannot  tell  you  the  delight  it  gives 
us.  Father  almost  shed  tears  as  he  read  it. 

The  last  half  of  the  second  year  at  the  seminary  presents 
no  incidents,  and  the  letters  which  have  been  preserved  are 
few.  Complaints  about  the  situation  are  not  so  strenuous  as 
at  first.  He  was  working  hard,  determined  that  the  time 
should  be  fruitful  in  some  result.  Washington  had  begun  to 
lose  its  charm,  though  he  visits  it  occasionally  and  was  pre- 
sent to  hear  Douglas  make  his  famous  speech  in  Congress. 
Hon.  Edward  Everett,  his  kinsman,  was  at  this  time  lectur- 
ing through  the  country,  everywhere  making  an  impression 
by  his  oratory,  but  Phillips  failed  to  hear  him  when  he  came 
to  Washington.  Mr.  Everett  was  not  in  sympathy  with  the 
New  England  abolitionists,  a  reason  for  the  warm  welcome 
given  him  in  the  South,  as  for  the  coldness  which  it  bred  to- 
wards him  in  his  native  State.  The  letters  from  home  are 
at  this  time  more  interesting  than  those  which  Phillips  sends 
in  return.  His  father's  in  particular  are  characterized  by 
the  concrete  interest  with  which  all  life,  secular  and  religious, 
was  invested  in  his  eyes,  while  his  mother's  are  full  of  the 
inexpressible  love  and  yearning,  repeating  and  reiterating 


.  21-22]      LIFE  IN  VIRGINIA  213 

the  one  great  burden  of  her  soul.  The  spring  of  1858  wit- 
nessed  all  over  the  country  a  mysterious  religious  awakening, 
only  to  be  compared  in  depth  and  extent  with  the  Great 
Awakening  of  the  eighteenth  century.  It  did  not  originate 
with  the  working  of  any  machinery  which  revivalists  use,  but 
rather  with  the  Spirit,  like  the  wind  that  bloweth,  coming 
and  going  at  its  pleasure.  Every  church  felt  the  effect  of 
the  deep  religious  interest  spreading  as  by  a  silent  contagion. 
It  was  felt  at  Alexandria  in  the  seminary,  as  it  was  at  St. 
Paul's  Church  in  Boston.  There  had  been  some  strain  in 
the  relations  between  Dr.  Vinton  and  his  parish,  but  it  was 
overcome  by  the  prevailing  religious  mood  of  the  hour,  and 
he  had  never  been  so  powerful  in  the  pulpit.  Every  after- 
noon during  Lent  the  church  was  filled  with  attentive  lis- 
teners. But  George  Brooks  was  not  yet  among  those  who 
felt  the  religious  impression.  Both  the  father  and  the  mother 
lament  his  indifference,  while  they  admire  his  manliness  and 
succumb  to  his  attractions.  For  the  rest,  his  mother  enu- 
merates with  pride  how  the  younger  boys  are  winning  honors 
in  their  respective  positions  at  school.  "You  must  not  think 
I  'm  proud,  Philly,  but  it  is  only  the  gladness  of  a  mother's 
heart  to  see  her  children  promising  as  they  grow  into  men." 
The  father  writes  January  8,  1858,  and  his  advice  about  the 
seminary  was  admirable :  — 

Remember  what  I  have  often  told  you  about  the  seminary  that 
after  all,  dull  as  it  is,  the  most  depends  on  your  individual  exer- 
tions, and  these  I  know  never  will  be  allowed  to  rust  with  you. 
I  wish  other  things  were  equal,  and  that  you  found  it  more  plea- 
sant and  congenial. 

The  lecture  season  has  not  been  so  successful  as  usual,  I  am 
told ;  it  has  been  overdone ;  as  an  instance,  the  Lowell  lectures  do 
not  draw  for  tickets  now.  If  Mr.  Everett  should  be  in  your 
vicinity,  you  had  better  go  and  see  and  hear  him.  We  have  be- 
gun to  read  Livingstone's  Travels  in  Africa  at  the  evening  table. 
.  .  .  Do  you  go  to  Washington  much?  a  rowdy  place  I  should 
not  advise  visiting  much!  What  a  disgraceful  drunken  scrape 
that  was  last  week  among  them ! 

One  incident  which  his  father  records  may  be  mentioned 
for  the  interest  it  roused  in  the  family,  in  which  Phillips 


214  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1857-58 

shared.  "I  have  been  upon  some  business  to-day  that  I 
thought  you  would  be  glad  to  avail  yourself  of  when  you 
returned,  —  this  is  purchasing  a  share  in  the  Boston  Athe- 
iKvuni.  I  have  long  wanted  one  for  myself  and  all  you  chil- 
dren as  you  grow  up,  and  hope  you  will  enjoy  it." 

The  letters  from  home  meant  much  to  the  absent  student, 
more  perhaps  than  he  fully  realized  at  the  time.  They  riv- 
eted more  strongly  the  ties  which  bound  him  to  it ;  they  kept 
his  heart  young  and  fresh,  and  open  to  all  good  influences. 
Take  these  words  from  a  letter  of  his  mother's,  written  in 
the  early  part  of  the  year  1858,  which  might  be  paralleled  in 
almost  any  letter  she  wrote :  — 

MY  DEAREST  PHILLT,  —  I  perfectly  long  to  see  you,  and  I 
must  write  you  a  line  to  tell  you  so.  Sometimes  I  get  to  thinking 
BO  much  of  you  it  seems  as  if  I  could  not  wait  till  next  June  before 
I  lay  eyes  on  you  again.  But  the  time  will  soon  pass,  and  we  shall 
goon  begin  to  count  the  weeks  instead  of  the  months.  In  the 
meantime  be  sure  you  are  not  forgotten.  We  talk  about  you,  and 
remember  you  at  table  and  in  the  evenings,  and  especially  when- 
ever we  go  into  your  chamber,  which  has  all  your  pictures  and 
fixings  just  as  you  left  it.  I  never  enter  it  without  thinking  of 
you. 

And  again,  the  father  regrets  that  Phillips  could  not  have 
been  with  the  family  on  the  last  Sunday  evening  when  the 
boys  recited  hymns.  This  was  a  beautiful  custom,  which 
called  from  each  one  of  the  children  the  learning  of  a  new 
hymn  every  Sunday,  and  its  recital  before  the  assembled 
family.  In  a  little  book  carefully  kept  by  the  father,  there 
was  a  record  of  the  hymns  each  child  had  learned,  beginning 
with  William,  who  had  the  advantage  of  age,  and  had  learned 
the  greatest  number,  followed  by  Phillips,  who  came  next, 
and  the  record  tapering  down  with  the  diminishing  years, 
until  John  is  reached,  with  a  comparatively  small  number  at 
his  disposal.  Most  of  them  were  from  the  old  edition  of 
the  Prayer  Book,  then  bound  up  with  a  metrical  selection 
of  Psalms  and  a  collection  of  two  hundred  and  twelve  hymns. 
These  hymns  Phillips  carried  in  his  mind  as  so  much  mental 
and  spiritual  furniture,  or  as  germs  of  thought;  they  often 


/ET.  21-22]      LIFE  IN  VIRGINIA  215 

reappeared   in  his  sermons,   as  he  became  aware  of  some 
deeper  meaning  in  the  old  familiar  lines. 

The  political  situation  in  the  spring  of  1858  was  full  of 
excitement,  indicating  that  the  trend  of  sentiment  in  the 
country  was  against  Buchanan's  administration.  The  ques- 
tion was  before  Congress  whether  Kansas  should  be  admitted 
as  a  state  into  the  Union  under  the  Lecompton  Constitution, 
so  called  from  the  place  where  it  had  been  drawn  up,  —  a  con- 
stitution which  recognized  slavery,  and  had  never  been  sub- 
mitted to  the  people  of  the  Territory.  It  was  a  great  event 
when  Mr.  Douglas,  the  rival  of  Mr.  Lincoln,  committed  him- 
self by  a  speech  against  the  proposal  to  adopt  this  constitu- 
tion :  — 

Tuesday  morning,  March  23,  1858. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  have  just  returned  from  Washington, 
where  I  spent  the  greater  part  of  last  night,  from  seven  till 
eleven,  standing  on  a  very  little  bench  in  a  very  large  crowd,  lis- 
tening to  Douglas's  anti- Lecompton  speech  in  the  Senate.  You 
have  seen  it,  I  suppose,  in  the  papers.  It  wasn't  a  very  great 
speech,  but  as  I  had  never  heard  him  I  was  glad  to  have  the 
opportunity.  I  never  saw  such  a  crowd  before.  It  was  almost 
impossible  to  get  in,  and  once  in,  it  was  utterly  out  of  the  ques- 
tion to  get  out  again.  Toombs  replied  in  a  fiery  speech. 

Mr.  Everett  was  lecturing  in  Alexandria  last  week,  and  every- 
body is  admiring  him.  I  did  not  hear  him. 

We  have  been  having  spring  and  summer  weather,  but  to-day 
winter  is  back  again,  with  snow  and  cold.  The  flowers  are  out  in 
the  woods. 

The  following  letter  to  Mr.  George  C.  Sawyer  reverts  to 
the  failure  in  the  Latin  School,  but  no  longer  with  the  sense 
of  soreness.  It  is  a  satisfaction  to  get  this  clear  statement 
of  his  own  in  regard  to  the  ideal  of  a  teacher :  — 

March  28,  1858. 

DEAR  Tor,  —  It  was  a  pleasant  surprise  for  me  a  day  or  two 
ago  to  see  your  once  familiar  handwriting  on  a  letter  again,  of 
which  (the  handwriting,  not  the  letter)  excuse  my  saying  that  I 
can't  see  that  it  improves  much  with  accumulating  years  and 
honors.  So  you  are  to  be  the  Cato  of  New  York  Utica,  and  come 
the  ipse  dixit  to  Boys  80,  Girls  40,  to  say  nothing  of  subdued 
ushers  and  meek-eyed  female  assistants  cowering  at  the  eye  of  the 


2i6  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1857-58 

Principal.  I  wish  you  success  with  all  my  heart.  My  own  fail* 
ares  in  teaching  school  gave  me  at  least  some  idea  of  what  kind 
of  work  it  was,  and  while  I  left  it  with  a  firm  conviction  that  it 
was  just  the  wrong  thing  for  me,  I  had  a  feeling  that  somewhere 
in  space  there  must  be  an  ideal  schoolmaster,  cut  out  to  the  pat- 
tern of  the  teacher's  chair,  who  would  like  teaching  and  whom 
teaching  would  like,  my  own  difficulty  having  been  rather  in  this 
very  last.  If  you  are  the  happy  man  who  has  thus  found  his 
place,  then  go  ahead,  and  I  wish  you  all  good  luck.  If  perchance 
there  be  a  good  parish  in  Utica,  with  intelligent  people,  and  plenty 
of  work  to  do,  and  a  present  need  of  a  young  clergyman  who  can 
live  on  nothing-a-year-and-find-himself,  prithee  let  me  know. 

Meanwhile  another  year  is  quietly  slipping  through  my  fingers 
here,  and  I  am  just  now  dolefully  trying  to  catch  the  end  and  tie 
a  knot  in  it,  so  that  it  shall  not  slip  away  entirely.  I  get  up 
every  morning  and  read  theology  all  day,  and  go  to  bed  to  get  up 
and  read,  and  so  on  again  the  next  day.  It  is  a  good  place  to 
ptiss  time,  and  a  pretty  good  place  to  spend  it,  getting  a  fair 
though  not  exorbitant  amount  for  your  money.  .  .  .  What  a 
great  success  the  "Atlantic  "  is!  New  books  are  scarce.  Plenty 
to  hear,  such  as  it  is,  in  Washington,  but  a  night  or  two  in  the 
crowded  Senate  Chamber  have  quenched  my  longing  for  that  sort 
of  thing,  and  I  stay  at  home  pretty  commendably  now.  We  have 
had  an  easy  winter  of  it;  one  or  two  days  as  cold  as  human 
charity,  but  mostly  mild  and  pleasant.  Excuse  this  rambling 
scrawl ;  say  the  proper  thing  to  anybody  who  cares  for  me,  and 
now  you  have  found  the  way,  do  write  soon  again. 


CHAPTER  VII 

1857-1858 

THE  INTELLECTUAL    PREPARATION,    THE    MORAL  IDEAL, 
CONVERSION.      EXTRACTS   FROM   HIS   NOTE-BOOK 

FROM  this  sketch  of  Brooks 's  life  during  his  second  year  in 
the  seminary  we  turn  to  his  intellectual  activity.  The  mate- 
rials for  forming  a  judgment  are  so  abundant  as  to  defy  any 
effort  to  make  the  picture  complete.  Out  of  all  the  years  of 
his  life,  this  second  year  at  Alexandria  stands  forth  supreme. 
In  no  other  year  did  he  receive  so  much  from  the  world, 
from  books,  from  life,  or  from  himself;  in  no  other  year  did 
he  leave  so  marvellous  a  record  of  his  genius.  The  stamp  of 
maturity  and  finality  is  on  his  work.  It  was  work  that  he 
was  doing  for  himself  with  no  other  guide  than  his  divinely 
inspired  instinct.  He  had  come  to  the  full  possession  of 
himself  in  the  greatness  of  his  power.  He  was  still  destined 
to  grow  and  expand,  but  every  germ  and  principle  of  the 
later  expansion  is  here  revealed. 

Before  trying  to  give  some  conception  of  his  intellectual 
activity,  if  we  may  call  it  intellectual  purely  when  heart  and 
will  were  intensely  alive  and  in  organic  fusion  with  the  rea- 
son, it  is  important  and  necessary  to  premise  that  he  did  the 
required  work  of  the  classroom  in  a  conscientious  spirit,  so 
as  to  win  the  approbation  of  his  teachers.  It  is  difficult  to 
see  how  he  accomplished  it,  when  he  was  living  at  the  same 
time  in  another  world  of  his  own,  where  his  genius  was  ran- 
ging far  and  wide  beyond  the  imagination  of  his  associates. 
But  he  did  accomplish  it,  reading  with  his  class  selected  parts 
of  the  Old  Testament  in  Hebrew,  though  never  with  any  en- 
thusiasm for  the  language,  the  Greek  New  Testament,  Eccle- 
siastical History,  and  Systematic  Theology.  This  was  the 


ai 8  PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [1857-58 

routine  of  study  which  constituted  a  background  for  the  pic- 
ture  of  his  development,  most  important  surely,  as  he  well 
understood ;  but  it  was  also  that  which  he  received  in  com- 
mon with  others,  and  calls  for  no  further  comment. 

It  may  serve  to  give  some  conception  of  the  extensiveness 
of  his  original  work  if  we  furnish  a  list  of  the  books  he  was 
reading,  with  extracts  from  which  he  enriched  his  journal. 
In  later  years,  when  he  carried  the  heavy  pressure  of  profes- 
sional life,  there  was  no  opportunity  to  record  his  reading  or 
its  results.  This  constitutes  another  reason  for  giving  with 
some  detail  the  nature  of  the  work  he  was  doing  now. 
Among  the  Greek  books  which  he  not  only  read,  but  studied, 
were:  Plato's  Phaedo;  Plutarch's  De  Oraculorum  Defectu; 
Xenophon's  Memorabilia;  the  tragedies  of  Sophocles, — 
Antigone,  CEdipus  Tyrannus,  CEdipus  at  Colonus;  and  of 
^Eschylus, —  the  Agamemnon,  the  Choephori,  and  Eumenides; 
and  the  Encheiridion  of  Epictetus.  He  read  Clement  of 
Alexandria,  Origen,  Philo  with  special  interest  and  attention, 
Eusebius,  and  Chrysostom.  His  list  of  Latin  works  in- 
cludes: Cicero's  De  Senectute  and  the  Tusculanae;  Lucan's 
Pharsalia;  Tertullian's  De  Prsescriptione  Haereticorum,  Apo- 
logeticus,  De  Corona  Militis,  De  Fuga  in  Persecutione,  De 
Idolatria,  and  De  Carne  Christi;  Cyprian's  Epistles;  Augus- 
tine's De  Vera  Religione;  Boethius'  De  Consolatione  Phi- 
losophise, on  which  he  mused  in  deep  sympathy;  Paulinus 
Nolanus'  Ennodii  Carmina;  Petrarch's  De  Remediis  utriusque 
Fortunae;  and  Claudian's  De  Raptu  Proserpinae.  He  also 
read  Horace,  Seneca,  and  Tacitus,  Lactantius,  Ambrose,  and 
Jerome.  Of  works  in  English,  the  list  is  a  long  one :  Bacon, 
Milton,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  Bolingbroke,  Lord  Shaftes- 
bury,  George  Herbert,  Carlyle,  Bulwer,  Kingsley,  Holmes, 
Robert  Browning,  Mrs.  Browning,  Ruskin,  Tennyson,  Henry 
Taylor,  Landor,  Coleridge,  Matthew  Arnold,  Mrs.  Jameson, 
Emerson,  Whittier,  Boyle,  Aubrey  de  Vere,  Keats,  Chaucer, 
Shakespeare,  Wordsworth,  Hooker,  Butler,  Isaac  Taylor, 
and  James  Russell  Lowell.  Other  books  were:  South's  Ser- 
mons, Pope's  Eloisa,  Walton's  Complete  Angler,  Gibbon's 
Decline  and  Fall,  Bunsen's  Hippolytus  and  his  Age,  Bledsoe 


JET.  21-22]  INWARD  DEVELOPMENT        219 

on  Social  Progress,  Warburton's  Divine  Legation,  Henry 
#Vard  Beecher's  Life  Thoughts,  Cambridge  Essays,  Ryle  on 
Prayer,  Thorndale  on  the  Conflict  of  Opinions,  Thorn  well's 
Discourses  on  Truth,  Francis  Newman's  Theism,  F.  W. 
Faber's  Guide  to  Holiness,  and  the  English  reviews,  nota- 
bly the  Quarterly  and  Blackwood.  The  reading  of  Lewes's 
Life  of  Goethe  led  him  to  take  up  Goethe's  writings;  he 
studied  Faust,  and  continued  to  read  Schiller  and  to  exercise 
himself  in  translation  of  the  striking  passages  of  both  writers. 
In  French,  he  read  Eochefoucauld's  Maxims,  Rousseau, 
Cousin,  and  the  Essays  of  Montaigne. 

One  distinctive  characteristic  of  Phillips  Brooks  now  be- 
comes apparent,  although  traces  of  it  may  be  seen  in  earlier 
years,  —  his  capacity  of  being  quickly  roused  into  a  glowing 
enthusiasm,  of  blazing  up  into  a  consuming  fire,  under  the 
contact  of  ideas  or  truths  presented  to  his  mind.  For  truth 
with  him  did  not  rest  with  an  appeal  to  the  intellect,  but 
stirred  his  whole  being,  his  emotional  nature,  and  ended  in 
the  will,  where  it  buried  itself  deeply,  calling  for  action  or 
for  deeper  consecration.  He  did  not  have  at  this  time  any 
outlet  for  the  force  within,  such  as  afterwards  came  through 
the  pulpit,  where  he  poured  forth  his  aroused,  excited  soul. 
One  resource  he  had  which  deserves  mention,  —  he  found 
relief  in  poetry.  It  was  his  custom  at  this  time,  whenever 
he  had  been  deeply  moved,  to  attempt  expression  in  the  son- 
net. We  may  take  these  sonnets,  of  which  there  is  a  large 
number,  as  criterions  of  judgment,  enabling  us  to  determine 
the  books  or  the  authors  who  contributed  chiefly  to  the  ex- 
pansion of  his  being.  They  were  not  intended  for  publica- 
tion, they  were  written  rapidly,  and  as  with  his  other  verse, 
if  he  did  not  succeed  in  attaining  just  the  expression  he  wished 
when  they  first  took  shape,  he  did  not  better  them  when  he 
attempted  any  polish  or  revision.  To  some  of  these  sonnets 
he  attached  importance,  as  reminders  of  great  and  rare  expe- 
riences. Such  were  those  written  after  reading  the  trage- 
dies of  JEschylus  and  Sophocles.  He  repeated  them  before 
the  students  at  Alexandria,  with  an  introduction  to  each,  giv- 
ing a  brief  sketch  of  the  movement  in  each  tragedy.  Once 


220  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1857-58 

again,  and  not  long  before  his  death,  he  turned  back  to  these 
sonnets  of  his  youth,  finding,  it  may  have  been,  some  inward 
pleasure  in  the  visions  and  experiences  of  life  they  recalled. 
He  read  them  again,  before  a  club  in  Boston,  where  he  was 
called  upon  to  furnish  the  subject  for  discussion.  They  are 
here  given  with  the  preface  to  them  as  he  reviewed  them  in 
his  last  days :  — 

Beading  once,  many  years  ago,  the  three  great  Tragedies  of 
^Eschylus,  which  together  make  a  magnificent  Trilogy,  I  was  led 
at  the  end  of  each  to  express  in  verse  the  total  impression  which 
it  made.  I  hope  these  verses  may  not  seem  altogether  too  serious 
and  too  solemn  for  the  club. 

The  first  play  is  the  Agamemnon,  full  of  the  prophecies  of  the 
Trojan  captive  Cassandra,  foretelling  the  woes  that  were  to  fall  on 
the  great  captain  of  the  Greeks.  I  finished  it  on  a  bright  sum- 
mer day,  and  these  verses  were  written  at  the  close :  — 

The  story  's  ended :  Fling  the  window  wide ; 

Let  the  June  sunlight  leap  across  the  room. 

How  like  a  spirit  it  comes  through  the  gloom, 
And  draws  the  old  black  tragic  veil  aside! 

All  day  the  passion  of  the  Argive  queen, 
All  day  Cassandra's  fate-words,  half  unsung, 
Like  a  dark  storm-cloud  o'er  my  soul  have  hung, 

With  choral  thunders  breaking  through  between. 
We  've  heard  the  tale  a  human  life  can  tell; 

Come,  hear  the  stories  Nature's  heart  can  speak, 
Hear  June's  rich  rhythms  die  adown  the  dell, 

And  each  tree's  chorus  grander  than  the  Greek ! 
Cassandra- thoughts,  with  more  than  Loxian  spell, 

Come  singing  to  us  from  the  mountain's  peak! 

The  second  play,  the  Choephori,  has  the  story  of  Orestes  aven- 
ging the  death  of  Agamemnon.  It  is  heavy  with  the  thought  of 
yet  greater  tragedy  to  come.  The  feeling  as  one  ends  it  is  of 
suspense  and  dread,  as  if  it  were  good  to  pause  awhile  before  the 
next  curtain  should  be  raised :  — 

As  one  that  travels  through  the  mountain's  gloom, 
And  sees  the  peaks  above  him  stern  and  stark, 
And  midnight's  myriad  eyes  adown  the  dark, 

And  all  earth  listening  as  for  voice  of  doom, 


>ET.  21-22]    INWARD  DEVELOPMENT        221 

Arrived  at  length  beneath  some  friendly  roof, 
Turns  his  tired  footsteps  to  the  cheerful  light, 
Yet,  pausing,  gazes  once  more  down  the  night, 

And  sees  the  slow  storm  darkening  all  aloof; 

So  pause  we  here  and  gaze  a  moment  back 

Where  we  came  journeying  this  sad  summer's  day 

Hear  the  low  thunder  roar  along  its  track, 
See  tempest  clouds  that  stoop  above  our  way. 

The  night  is  deepening.     Rest  we  here  a  space 

The  dark  fate- journey  of  old  Pelops'  race! 

The  last  play  is  the  Eumenides,  taking  its  name  from  the  Furies, 
who  pursue  Orestes.  It  ends  with  the  departure  from  Athens 
of  the  Furies,  who  have  been  disappointed  of  their  victim.  As 
they  go,  they  seem  to  leave  the  air  and  earth  clear  for  better 
things :  — 

So  Fate  hath  fallen  and  the  virgin  fled : 
The  slow  procession  fadeth  out  of  sight, 
The  Athenian  chorus  in  their  stoles  of  white, 

The  Furies,  solemn-faced,  with  bended  head, 

Now  a  dim  line  across  the  distance  goes, 

Like  faint  wave-margin  on  some  far-off  shore, 
One  moment  trembles  and  is  seen  no  more, 

And  earth  lies  smiling  in  a  sweet  repose. 

But  up  the  darkness  where  they  vanished,  came 

The  sunrise  angels  of  a  holier  day  — 
Up  all  the  horizon  steps  of  kneeling  Flame. 

Hark!  Peace  and  Mercy  singing  on  their  way! 
Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity,  new  steps  like  these 
In  those  old  footprints  of  the  Eumenides. 

So  the  Trilogy  ends;  the  last  of  its  Tragedies  being  the 
greatest.1 

Another  of  these  sonnets,  inspired  by  the  study  of  Greek 
tragedy,  is  on  the  Antigone  of  Sophocles :  — 

1  "  I  am  quite  sure,"  writes  the  Rev.  W.  Dewees  Roberts,  assistant  minister 
at  Trinity  from  1888,  "that  Mr.  Brooks  copied  those  sonnets  as  late  as  when 
I  was  at  Trinity.  I  was  not  surprised  to  find  the  book  upon  his  desk  after  his 
death.  He  told  me  at  one  time  that  if  he  were  to  find  himself  in  charge  of  a 
•ohool  he  should  insist  upon  the  writing  of  verse  as  one  of  the  school  exercise*. 
He  took  me  to  task  upon  making  fun  of  young  men  who  thought  they  could 
write  verse,  and  said  he  knew  of  nothing  which  would  give  a  man  a  better  com- 
mand of  English  than  to  practice  himself  in  the  writing  of  verse." 


222  PHILLIPS  BROOKS         [1857-58 

Unwept,  unwedded,  on  my  destined  way  — 

So  sang  Antigone,  and  passed  in  tears ; 

So  sings  she  still  as  down  the  listening  years 
Goes  the  fair  victim  of  proud  Creon's  sway, 
And  now  this  dreary  morning  while  I  read, 

And  hear  her  tear-drops  through  the  tender  Greek, 

My  heart  goes  back  along  her  path  to  seek 
How  nature  triumphed  e'en  while  Fate  decreed. 
Still  lies  the  brother's  corpse  beyond  the  gate, 

Still  comes  the  virgin  with  the  scattered  dost, 
And  these  dark  hours  grow  queenly  with  the  state 

Of  beauty  throned  amid  the  hapless  just. 
Page  turns  on  page,  and  still  my  soul  can  see 
New  Truth  in  Life,  taught  by  Antigone. 

The  influence  upon  him  of  the  Greek  tragedies  at  so  im- 
pressible a  moment  of  his  life  may  be  detected  in  his  preach- 
ing. Among  the  passages  of  Scripture  selected  at  this  time 
for  future  sermons  is  this:  "For  I  was  alive  without  the  law 
once;  but  when  the  commandment  came,  sin  revived  and  I 
died,"  with  the  reference  to  Sophocles'  CEdipus  Colonus, 

393  t   or'  OVKCT'  efyit,  n/viKaur'  op*  ci/x'  avr)p. 

Taking  the  sonnets  as  an  index  of  his  mind  or  of  the  power 
exerted  on  him  by  the  authors  he  studied,  a  foremost  place 
must  be  given  to  the  Greek  and  Latin  fathers  whom  he 
read  with  diligence.  In  doing  this,  he  was  in  a  sphere  alone 
by  himself,  with  no  patristic  guides  or  glosses,  with  no  dis- 
cussion in  the  classroom,  or  with  those  conversant  with  the 
subject.  To  a  certain  extent  he  found  companionship  in 
Isaac  Taylor's  "Ancient  Christianity,"  or  with  Bunsen  in  his 
genial  and  profound  study  of  "Hippolytus  and  his  Age."  It 
is  evident  that  he  read  the  Fathers  for  the  exercise  of  his 
linguistic  power,  and  for  the  pleasure  they  afforded  in  coming 
into  contact  with  their  thought  at  first  hand.  But  the  son- 
nets which  he  wrote  on  Tcrtullian,  Origen,  and  Jerome 
show  him  to  have  experienced  a  deeper  attraction  for  the 
men  in  themselves  as  he  came  to  know  their  spirit.  Thus  of 
Origen  he  writes :  — 

O  Adamantine  Scholar,  dreamer,  sage, 

And  Christian,  nobler  name  than  all  the  rest, 


MT.  21-22]     INWARD  DEVELOPMENT       223 

What  sadness  is  there  in  thy  lifelong  quest 
Of  sense  mysterious  in  the  sacred  page! 

Thy  life  was  like  the  morning  when  the  day, 
With  wealth  of  beauty  crowding  into  birth, 
Breathes  her  warm  heart  upon  the  sleeping  earth, 

And  dawns  in  mists  that  noon  will  melt  away. 

Nothing  shows  better  the  generous  quality  of  his  nature 
than  his  ability  to  sympathize  even  with  Jerome,  of  whom  it 
has  been  said  that,  in  his  anxiety  to  fulfil  his  duty  toward 
God,  he  failed  signally  in  his  duty  toward  man :  — 

Stout  monk  of  Bethlehem,  this  life  of  thine 
Proves  some  strange  power  beneath  thy  dreamy  creed, 
As  signs  of  secret  springs  our  eyes  may  read 

On  the  bleak  sand-plain  in  the  lonely  pine. 
Those  foes  of  thine,  the  feeble  and  the  strong, 

Jovinian,  Rufin,  John,  and  all  the  rest, 

Who  stirred  such  anger  in  thy  saintly  breast, 
Perhaps  were  right,  who  knows  ?  perhaps  were  wrong. 

But  right  or  wrong,  in  faithless  times  like  these 
'Tis  well  to  see  how  faith  could  give  thee  power 

To  bind  earth's  chances  with  thy  will's  decree, 
And  grasp  the  reins  of  every  wayward  hour; 

Till  Cyril  stood  beside  thy  dying  bed, 

And  saw  bright  angels  bear  the  blessed  dead. 
THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  OF  VIRGINIA,  1857. 

He  had  begun  reading  Tertullian  in  his  Junior  year  at 
the  seminary.  That  among  the  Fathers  this  was  his  favorite 
is  shown  in  several  ways.  He  not  only  read  his  more  impor- 
tant treatises,  and  made  many  extracts,  but  he  made  out  Latin 
analyses  of  his  De  Anima  and  De  PraBScriptione  Haereti- 
corum.  Two  sonnets  upon  Tertullian  are  evidence  that  he 
sympathized  with  the  humanity  of  that  noble  but  erratic  man, 
whose  spirit  was  always  beating  in  inward  tumult,  and  torn 
with  contradictions.  He  took  him  as  he  was,  saint  and  here- 
tic commingled,  whose  fire  was  always  alive  whether  by  wood 
or  straw  as  fuel. 

There  is  evidence  of  an  underlying  philosophical  system 
which  at  this  early  age  Phillips  Brooks  was  beginning  to 
create  for  himself.  He  was  seeking  for  some  principle  which 
should  give  unity  to  his  thought  and  life.  For  abstract  ideas 


224  PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [1857-58 

as  such,  for  purely  speculative  conclusions  in  themselves,  he 
felt  no  attraction,  nor  had  he  use  for  them  unless  he  saw  in 
them  some  practical  relation  to  real  life  in  the  world.  His 
mind  had  an  introversive  tendency,  as  shown  by  his  musings 
upon  life,  however  manifested  —  whether  in  nature,  in  him- 
self, or  in  a  common  humanity;  but  through  his  musings 
runs  a  practical  aim.  He  was  a  voracious  devourer  of  ideas, 
searching  everywhere  for  thoughts,  but  always  asking  him- 
self the  question,  —  What  should  be  done  with  them,  how  were 
they  related  to  life?  Yet  of  what  are  called  philosophical 
systems  he  was  not  a  student,  nor  are  there  traces  in  his  note- 
books of  any  desire  to  get  at  the  history  of  philosophy.  He 
studied  Plato's  Phsedo,  translating  into  his  best  English  its 
finest  thoughts.  But  he  seemed  to  have  fastened  on  this 
particular  dialogue  because  of  its  close  connection  with  the 
mystery  of  life.  It  was  to  Socrates  the  man  he  was  most 
powerfully  attracted,  rather  than  to  the  speculations  of  Plato. 
From  his  boyhood  it  had  been  Socrates  who  moved  his  admi- 
ration. Two  of  his  sonnets  are  devoted  to  Socrates, — evi- 
dence that  his  spirit  was  stirred  within  him,  as  he  discerned 
more  clearly  the  meaning  of  his  life. 

It  looks  as  if  he  felt  instinctively,  as  Goethe  had  felt,  that 
too  close  a  study  of  speculative  philosophy  would  turn  him 
in  a  direction  alien  to  his  genius,  or  impede  his  true  develop- 
ment. He  was  wrestling  with  the  same  eternal  issues  that 
underlie  the  philosophy  of  Kant  or  Hegel,  but  he  does  not 
turn  to  them  for  guidance.  The  problem  was  his  own,  and 
must  be  met  in  his  own  way.  Although  in  his  isolation  his 
opportunity  for  books  was  limited,  yet  if  he  had  inclined  to 
the  study  of  speculative  philosophy,  German  or  other,  he 
would  have  managed  to  get  the  books  that  he  wanted  and 
must  have.  But  life  appealed  to  him  in  its  concrete  or  his- 
torical manifestations  rather  than  in  the  condensed  algebraic 
formulas  of  speculative  thought.  It  was  then  by  no  accident 
that  he  turned  to  Lord  Bacon ;  and  in  passages,  sometimes 
copied,  sometimes  translated,  which  give  the  motives  of  the 
Baconian  philosophy,  we  may  also  see  the  motives  and  the 
aspirations  of  his  own  soul :  — 


^T.  21-22]     INWARD   DEVELOPMENT        225 

For  that  is  true  philosophy  which  renders  most  faithfully  the 
voices  of  the  world,  and  is  written,  as  it  were,  at  the  world's 
dictation;  and  is  nothing  else  but  its  image  and  reflection,  and 
adds  nothing  of  its  own,  but  only  repeats  and  resounds.  (De 
Sapientia  Veterum.) 

Again  he  quotes  from  Bacon  a  saying  which  must  have 
been  to  him  a  rule  of  guidance:  "Interpretation  is  the 
natural  and  genuine  work  of  the  mind  after  obstacles  are  re- 
moved." In  this  direction  lay  in  part  the  original  power  of 
Phillips  Brooks.  As  Bacon  came  to  the  interpretation  of 
the  world  and  of  life  in  the  freshness  of  a  great  and  rare 
opportunity,  when  the  obstacles  of  the  scholastic  philosophy 
had  been  swept  away,  so  too  was  he  coming  to  it  in  the  same 
way,  with  an  overpowering  impulse  to  interpret  the  world  he 
lived  in.  In  some  manner  he  had  freed  himself  from  shac- 
kles, the  world  was  open  to  him,  the  learning  he  had  acquired 
called  for  interpretation.  His  own  life,  his  experience,  the 
results  of  his  incessant  observation,  the  lessons  also  of  his 
childhood,  the  teaching  of  the  church,  the  word  of  Scrip- 
ture, —  all  these  were  open  before  him,  thoughts  were  crowd- 
ing in  upon  him,  and  through  the  note-book  sounds  the 
perpetual  comment  which  the  reality  demands :  — 

But  to  one  who  thinks  rightly  on  this  matter,  natural  phi- 
losophy is,  after  the  word  of  God,  the  surest  cure  of  superstition 
and  likewise  the  most  excellent  nourishment  of  faith.  And  so  it 
is  well  given  to  religion  for  her  trustiest  handmaid :  since  the  one 
shows  the  will  of  God,  the  other  shows  his  power.  (Bacon,  Nov. 
Org.,  i.  89.) 

Empiricists,  like  the  ants,  only  heap  up  and  use ;  rationalists, 
like  spiders,  spin  webs  out  of  themselves ;  but  the  bee  is  between 
the  two,  she  draws  material  from  the  flowers  of  the  garden  and 
field,  but  yet  turns  and  digests  it  by  her  own  ability  (propria 
facilitate).  (Nov.  Org.,  i.  95.) 

The  first  qualities  of  things  (yualitates  elementales)  we  cannot 
know,  and  in  most  matters  it  is  waste  of  time  for  us  to  seek  them ; 
the  second  qualities  of  things,  their  evident  virtues  and  effects 
and  operations  in  this  world  of  ours,  these  are  what  the  true 
philosophy  of  daily  life  seeks  out. 

The  way  does  not  lie  in  a  plain,  but  has  its  ascending  and  de- 
scending, its  ascending  to  axioms,  its  descending  to  operations. 
(Nov.  Org.,  i.  103.) 


226  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1857-58 

But  there  was  something  more  gained  from  Bacon  which 
harmonized  with  his  own  boundless  enthusiasm,  and  for  which 
also  the  study  of  Philo  had  prepared  him,  —  the  conviction 
that  even  material  pursuits,  such  as  commerce  and  trade,  may 
have  spiritual  ends,  existing  for  the  children  of  God,  and 
the  agencies  of  a  divine  light.  The  world  was  becoming  to 
his  imagination  a  vast  storehouse  filled  with  an  infinite 
wealth.  Rightly  used,  these  agencies  would  uplift  humanity, 
gradually  restoring  to  mankind  the  original  Eden  from  which 
it  had  been  driven. 


Sic  itaque  videbis,  commercium  nos  instituisse,  non  pro  auro, 
argento  et  gemmis,  non  pro  sericis  aut  aromatibus,  neque  pro  aliig 
quibus  vis  rebus  crassis,  sed  tantum  pro  creatura  Dei  prima,  luce 
scilicet:  luce,  inqnam,  in  qnacunque  tandem  tensae  regione  pro- 
rumpente  et  germinante.  (Bacon,  Nova  Atlantis.) 

Itaque  sperandum  omnino  est  esse  adhuc  in  naturae  sinu  multa 
excellentis  usus  recondita,  qua-  nullam  cum  jam  inventis  cogna- 
tionem  habent  aut  parallelismum ;  sed  omnino  sita  sunt  extra  vias 
phantasiae ;  quae  tamen  adhuc  inventa  non  sunt ;  quae  proculdubio 
per  multos  seculorum  circuitus  et  ambages  et  ipsa  quandoque  pro- 
dibunt,  sicut  ilia  superiora  prodierunt ;  sed  per  viam  quam  mine 
tract anius.  propere  et  subito  et  siinul  repraesentari  et  anticipari 
possunt.  (Nov.  Org.,  i.  109.) 

But  the  great  and  radical  difference  of  mind  so  far  as  concerns 
philosophy  and  tbe  sciences  is  this:  that  some  minds  are  strong 
and  ready  to  note  the  differences  of  things,  others  to  note  the 
similitudes  of  things.  For  minds  that  are  persistent  and  quick 
to  fasten  their  thoughts  can  both  pause  and  delay  in  all  the  nicety 
of  distinctions ;  but  lofty  and  discursive  minds  both  recognize  and 
compose  even  the  slightest  and  most  general  resemblances;  but 
both  minds  easily  fall  into  excess  by  seizing  on  either  the  grades 
or  shadows  of  things.  (Nov.  Org.,  i.  55.) 

For  the  old  age  and  maturity  of  the  world  ought  surely  to  be 
taken  for  antiquity,  and  these  belong  to  our  time  and  not  to  that 
younger  age  of  the  world  in  which  the  ancients  lived.  For  that 
age  is  in  respect  to  us  ancient  and  elder,  but  in  respect  to  the 
world  itself  new  and  younger.  (Nov.  Org.,  i.  56.) 

A  syllogism  is  made  of  propositions,  a  proposition  of  words, 
and  words  are  the  counters  (tessera)  of  ideas;  and  so  if  the  ideas 
themselves  (which  is  the  basis  of  the  whole  matter)  be  confused  and 
rashly  deduced  from  fact,  there  is  no  firmness  in  the  structures 


MT.  21-22]     INWARD   DEVELOPMENT       227 

which  are  built  on  them.  The  only  hope  then  is  in  a  true  induc- 
tion. (Nov.  Org.,  i.  14.) 

This  error  is  peculiar  and  perpetual  in  the  human  intellect, 
that  it  is  moved  more  by  affirmations  than  by  negations,  while 
it  ought  to  bestow  itself  fairly  and  in  turn  on  each;  nay,  on  the 
contrary,  in  establishing  every  true  axiom,  the  force  of  a  negative 
instance  is  greater.  (Nov.  Org.,  i.  46.) 

The  human  understanding  is  like  a  mirror  unevenly  inclined  to 
the  rays  of  objects,  which  mixes  its  own  nature  with  the  nature 
of  what  it  reflects,  and  distorts  and  spoils  it.  (Nov.  Org.,  i.  46.) 

For  there  is  in  man  a  certain  ambition  of  intellect,  no  less 
than  of  will,  especially  in  high  and  lofty  minds.  (Nov.  Org., 
i.  65.) 

When  the  human  mind  has  once  despaired  of  finding  truth,  all 
things  become  altogether  weak.  (Nov.  Org.,  i.  67.) 

Sunt  res  quae  nomine  carent,  ita  sunt  et  nomina  quae  carent 
rebus.  (Nov.  Org.,  i.  6.) 

Pessima  enim  res  est  errorum  apotheosis. 

There  are  deserts  and  wastes  no  less  of  times  than  regions. 
(Nov.  Org.,  i.  78.) 

From  another  ancient  writer  once  widely  read  (Mori,  Dis- 
sert. Theol.)  he  borrows  a  sentence,  which  shows  how  his 
mind  was  burrowing  beneath  the  surface  of  things :  — 

Uno  verbo,  historiam,  quae  illis  occasionem  monendi  et  phi- 
losophandi  praebere  poterat,  metaverunt  in  ipsam  admpnitionem  et 
philosophiam. 

Coleridge  was  prominent  among  the  writers  with  a  phi- 
losophical purpose  who  most  influenced  Phillips  Brooks.  He 
read  the  Aids  to  Reflection,  the  Biographia  Literaria,  and 
the  Friend;  he  lingered  over  Coleridge's  poetry.  What 
Coleridge  had  done  for  others  he  was  doing  now  for  him, 
emancipating  from  the  false  or  worn-out  logic  of  custom- 
ary system,  revealing  the  deeper  meaning  of  the  articles 
of  the  Christian  faith,  enlarging  the  conception  of  religion, 
restoring  to  reason  its  true  place  in  the  broken  harmony  be- 
tween faith  and  knowledge.  His  first  question  as  to  the  more 
difficult  or  recondite  doctrines  of  the  church  had  been  not 
whether  they  were  true,  but  what  did  they  mean;  what  con- 
victions or  aspirations  were  they  originally  meant  to  express, 
or  how  did  they  reveal  the  spiritual  psychology  of  man. 


228  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1857-58 

With  this  question  in  view,  Coleridge  had  travelled  over  the 
field  of  Christian  theology,  —  the  Incarnation,  the  Trinity, 
Original  Sin,  and  Atonement.  The  greatness  of  Coleridge 
has  been  obscured  by  many  deficiencies  and  much  weakness, 
but  his  influence  has  been  vast;  he  has  had  great  pupils, 
who  have  sat  at  his  feet  and  never  wearied  of  singing  his 
praise.  Archdeacon  Hare  called  him  a  "true  sovereign  of 
English  thought,"  and  in  this  encomium  Bushnell  joined, 
whose  influence  in  this  country  and  in  England  has  been 
greater  than  any  other  American  since  Jonathan  Edwards. 
What  he  did  for  Bushnell  he  did  for  Tulloch,  in  Scotland, 
and  for  F.  D.  Maurice.  It  was  one  great  gift  of  Coleridge  to 
his  students,  said  Maurice,  that  he  showed  "how  one  may 
enter  into  the  spirit  of  a  living  or  departed  author,  without 
assuming  to  be  his  judge."  Into  this  teaching  Phillips  Brooks 
was  entering,  and  throughout  his  career  rejoiced  in  the 
manifold  riches  it  brought  him. 

The  combination  in  Coleridge  of  poetry  and  theology  with 
the  pure  reason  was  at  once  a  fascination  and  a  thraldom 
bringing  with  it  a  large  liberty.  Part  of  the  charm  of  Cole- 
ridge was  due  to  his  Neoplatonic  teachers,  and  this  charm  was 
felt  by  Phillips  Brooks,  who  came  with  a  foreordained  fitness 
to  appreciate  it,  —  the  charm  of  Spenser  and  Raleigh  and 
Shakespeare,  of  the  age  of  the  Renaissance  before  the  Refor- 
mation. But  Phillips  Brooks  was  drinking  at  the  fountain 
head  whence  proceeded  this  vast  stream  of  infinite  and  per- 
petual joy,  when  he  had  turned  —  who  can  tell  why  ?  —  to  the 
writings  of  Philo,  who  first  brought  together  Jewish  theology 
and  Greek  philosophy,  studying  Moses  under  the  influence  of 
Plato.  Philo  became  a  teacher  to  him,  as  he  had  been  to 
the  early  Christian  church  at  Alexandria,  or  to  later  heathen 
teachers,  or  still  later  to  St.  Augustine  in  the  process  of  his 
conversion.  Over  none  of  his  favorite  authors  had  Phillips 
Brooks  bent  in  more  rapt  contemplation  than  Philo.  The 
influence  of  this  ancient  thinker,  who  stands  at  the  dividing 
of  the  worlds,  is  at  once  apparent,  and  continued  to  be  felt 
in  later  years.  To  his  excited  mood  he  gave  expression  in 
this  sonnet:  — 


AT.  21-22]     INWARD   DEVELOPMENT       229 

PHILO  JUD.EUS,  DE  MUNDI  OPIFICIO. 

A  great  Jew's  mind  with  Genesis  to  read, 
Searching  Creation  for  the  mighty  cause, 
Seeking  deep  meanings  in  the  old  Hebrew  laws 

Sounding  dry  cisterns  with  his  thirsty  need. 

What  though  we  call  him  Mystic  ?     Such  as  he 
Must  live  while  life's  deep  mystery  shall  last, 
The  voiceless  future  and  the  half-learned  past, 

Strange  sounds  we  hear  and  wandering  sights  we  see. 

Yet  even  while  he  dreamed,  the  Jewish  throng 
Was  dragging  Stephen  to  his  cruel  death, 

And  Saul's  wild  energy  was  waxing  strong 

With  Paul's  new  confidence  of  Christian  Faith. 

The  sun  had  risen,  but  his  blinded  sight 

Still  searched  the  darkness,  longing  for  the  light. 
THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  OF  VIRGINIA,  1857. 

The  same  influence  is  apparent  at  this  moment  of  awaken- 
ing in  the  question  which  haunts  him  continually,  —  What  is 
the  origin  of  the  thoughts  now  coming  to  him  thick  and  fast, 
in  almost  bewildering  confusion  and  light  ?  He  cannot  be- 
lieve that  they  have  their  source  in  his  own  mind ;  they  seem 
rather  like  angelic  visitants.  There  is  a  tinge  of  Neopla- 
tonism  in  the  verses  he  writes,  as  he  seeks  the  answer  to  his 
perturbed  inquiry. 

Among  the  more  modern  theological  books  which  he  was 
reading,  apart  from  the  greater  masters  in  English  theology, 
Hooker  and  Butler,  these  two  may  be  mentioned  as  having  con- 
tributed to  his  development, — Bushnell's  "Sermons  for  the 
New  Life"  and  Maurice's  "Theological  Essays."  These 
books,  as  they  now  stand  in  his  library,  show  the  marks  of 
hard  usage.  To  Bushnell  he  was  moved  to  indite  a  sonnet. 
But  it  would  be  impossible  here  adequately  to  represent  the 
variety  of  the  sources  from  which  he  was  drawing,  without 
reproducing  the  entire  contents  of  his  note-books.  They 
give  the  impression  of  some  great  tree,  some  monarch  of  the 
forest  with  many  roots  extending  deep  and  wide  beneath  the 
ground,  each  root  with  many  minute  ramifications  pushing 
in  every  direction  in  the  search  for  life.  Somehow  he  gives 
the  impression  of  being  greater  in  his  totality  than  the  sources 


230  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1857-58 

from  which  he  draws;  he  has  the  wider  outlook  of  a  later 
age,  yet  a  man  to  whom  the  great  spirits  of  the  world  are 
contributing  of  their  best  in  order  to  his  equipment.  What- 
ever he  quotes  becomes  his  own,  assuming  a  new  significance 
because  he  quotes  it.  These  hundreds  of  quotations,  so  care- 
fully written  out,  each  credited  to  its  author,  with  volume 
and  book  and  page,  constitute  a  rich  "adagia"  whose  prin- 
ciple of  unity  and  affiliation  is  the  awakening  life  of  a  rare 
and  great  soul. 

We  turn  from  the  manifestation  of  his  activity  in  learning 
from  others  to  the  native  working  of  his  own  mind.  His 
thoughts  are  jotted  down,  with  no  reference  to  any  system  or 
principle,  but  one  can  discern  running  through  them  certain 
strong  lines  of  direction  or  tendency.  And  in  the  first  place 
he  is  rejoicing  with  an  intense  self-consciousness  in  this 
strange  gift  of  thought,  which  is  to  him  a  novel  experience, 
his  own  newly  gained  power ;  his  own,  and  yet  he  is  haunted 
with  the  feeling  that  it  is  not  his  own.  His  attitude  is  that 
of  one  receiving  a  divine  revelation,  —  the  word  of  God 
coming  to  his  soul  in  diverse  ways,  through  the  imagination, 
through  feeling,  and  above  all  through  the  conscience.  Are 
not  these  thoughts  visitors  to  his  soul,  angelic  messengers  of 
God?  He  recalls  the  old  Montanist  analogy  used  by  Tertul- 
lian,  —  the  lyre  whose  strings  are  played  upon  by  the  Holy 
Spirit.  This  comparison  recurs  to  his  mind  as  he  reads  the 
divine  revelation  which  is  witnessed  by  outward  nature,  by 
the  history  of  humanity,  by  the  consciousness  of  the  life  of 
God  within  the  soul.  His  sensitiveness  to  spiritual  impres- 
sions is  everywhere  apparent.  Because  of  some  inward  en- 
dowment there  is  a  certain  unity  running  through  them,  and 
he  transmutes  these  impressions  into  an  appeal  to  the  will. 
So  it  was  that  the  myriad  voices  which  speak  of  God  were  in 
his  soul  tuned  to  harmony,  a  vast  and  infinite  orchestra,  God 
and  angels  and  men  and  the  life  of  nature  blended  in  spiritual 
melody,  and  while  he  listens  he  seems  to  be  filled  with  a  holy 
joy ;  but  it  alternates  with  moments  of  depression,  as  though 
he  were  at  times  overcome  with  the  unspeakable  wealth,  the 
magnitude,  the  majesty,  of  the  vision.  Yet  it  is  to  him  a 


.  2  1-22]    INWARD  DEVELOPMENT        231 


vision,  something  revealed,  and  not  his  own  creation.  These 
verses  where  he  speaks  of  thoughts  as  something  apart,  and 
not  generated  by  his  own  intellect,  betray  a  Neoplatonic  col- 
oring, as  if  they  were  links  in  the  chain  of  mediation  between 
earth  and  heaven. 

Upon  the  brow  God  lays  his  hand 

Of  angel  thoughts  descending, 
To  lead  our  steps  through  mortal  land 

Their  holy  influence  lending. 

"Go  forth,"  he  saith,   "and  guide  anew 

My  children's  weak  endeavor; 
Make  them  more  pure  and  strong  and  true, 
More  calm  and  constant  ever." 

And  may  we  know  these  thoughts  that  come 

And  bring  our  Father's  blessing, 
Descending  from  our  father's  home 

Our  Father's  peace  possessing. 

There  is  a  light  upon  their  face 

That  tells  of  that  they  dwelt  in, 
A  perfect  light  of  holy  grace 

With  holy  fervor  melting. 

And  memories  of  the  heavenly  hymn 

Around  their  lips  are  playing; 
We  hear  its  echoes  faint  and  dim, 

Its  praising  and  its  praying. 

And  deepest  yearnings  evermore 

For  joys  they  left  behind  them, 
Are  tempting  God-ward  till  we  soar 

And  rise  to  heaven  and  find  them. 


Thoughts  come  and  fold  their  wings 

Above  us  for  a  space ; 

Then  seek  their  heavenly  place 

Ere  we  can  feel  the  grace 
Of  half  the  holy  message  tbat  they  bring, 
Of  half  the  heavenly  anthem  that  they  sing. 

There  is  a  tendency  to  personify  nature  also,  to  think  of 


232  PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [1857-58 

the  earth  as  alive  and  conscious  and  sympathetic  with  the 
life  of  man,  who  walks  its  surface.  Thus  the  earth  as  it  rolls 
on  its  course  is  watching  the  career  of  humanity,  noting 
success  or  failure  in  the  great  scheme  of  things  of  which  it  is 
a  part.  Thus  he  can  sympathize  with  the  earth  in  its  task, 
its  faithfulness,  its  weariness,  the  sad  monotony  of  its  career. 
He  would  fain  converse  with  it  as  with  a  gigantic  animal, 
some  faithful  beast  of  burden,  closely  connected  with  man  as 
the  horse  with  its  rider.  In  the  long  journey  the  earth  is 
counting  the  weary  years  as  it  yearns  for  its  final  destiny 
and  repose :  — 

Smile  on,  Old  Earth,  and  dream  that  now 

As  then  thy  God  beside  thee 
Has  laid  his  hand  upon  thy  brow, 

And  holds  thy  hand  to  guide  thee. 

Sleep  on,  Old  Earth,  dream  on  to-night, 

Sleep  blessed  till  the  morrow, 
Man's  strife  will  wake  with  morning  light, 

Man's  sinning  and  man's  sorrow. 

But  happy  dreams  like  thine,  Old  Earth, 

Like  God's  own  sunlight  o'er  thee, 
Shall  light  thy  way  along  the  path 

That  lies  so  rough  before  thee. 

He  is  also  given  to  personifying  time  in  its  passing  years,  as 
though  it,  too,  were  a  living  entity,  growing  old  and  weighted 
with  infirmity,  the  conviction  of  failure  and  of  sin.  His 
study  of  the  classic  Greek  language  and  literature  had 
given  him  an  insight  into  the  ancient  mythology,  —  a  sym- 
pathy so  living  and  deep  that  at  times  it  seemed  a  vehicle 
for  his  own  emotions.  He  entered  into  the  religion  of  nature, 
whose  elementary  essence  is  habitual  and  permanent  admira- 
tion, the  reverence  for  the  mystery  of  things.  Tender  emo- 
tion mingled  with  fear  marks  his  outlook  upon  the  phenom- 
ena of  day  and  night,  the  rising  and  the  setting  sun,  the 
coming  and  going  of  the  seasons.  Each  new  day  is  an  ever- 
recurring  miracle,  each  sunrise  as  fresh  and  novel  a  scene 
as  when  viewed  by  the  first  man  for  the  first  time.  Each 


MT.  21-22]     INWARD  DEVELOPMENT        233 

morning  God  is  calling  upon  the  slumbering  earth  to  rise 
and  do  his  will.  "Morning  still  chases  morning  and  even- 
ing flies  from  evening  round  the  world."  "Each  new  science 
is  only  a  new  chord  in  the  harp  of  earth's  harmony,  each 
new  thought  only  a  new  strain  in  earth's  everlasting  song  of 
praise."  Prayer  and  prophecy  are  the  uplifted  hands  of 
earth,  yearning  for  the  heaven  that  is  to  come. 

Every  sunrise  and  sunset  gives  us  a  new  insight  into  the  old 
belief  that  the  East  and  the  West  were  blessed  lands,  with  golden 
rivers  and  bright  hills  and  warm  clear  skies  and  everlasting  ver- 
dure. How  our  souls  go  out  into  those  magic  lands,  and  meet 
there  the  old  Greek  souls  who  wandered  there  for  beauty,  led  by 
a  depth  of  feeling  for  its  worth  such  as  no  souls  but  Greek  have 
ever  known. 

How  some  morning  comes  to  us  with  a  sense  of  the  marvellous 
beauty  of  our  earth,  such  as  morning  after  morning  all  the  days 
of  our  life  have  failed  to  give  us.  How  sometimes  a  June  day 
will  seem  to  have  hoarded  all  the  warmth  and  light  and  loveliness 
of  the  six  thousand  Junes  since  first  the  seasons  were  losing  no 
ray  of  sunlight,  no  glow  of  the  old  warm  noons,  keeping  them 
close  from  winter's  cold,  and  now  at  last  pouring  them  down  upon 
our  happy  life  as  we  cannot  think  that  any  life  has  felt  them  in 
the  years  gone  by.  And  how  sometimes  a  thought  seems  to  have 
hoarded  all  the  wealth  and  worth  of  all  our  thoughts  since  think- 
ing first  began.  How  we  recognize  the  moment  for  which  all  the 
moments  that  went  before  were  made. 

The  fearful  powers  of  nature !  Why  have  not  you  and  I,  poor 
human  worms,  some  weak  power  over  fire  and  water,  and  air  and 
cold  and  heat,  enough  to  make  us  fear  and  tremble  at  ourselves 
each  hour? 

The  still  blue  sky  that  has  looked  in  sorrow  and  in  care  these 
six  thousand  years  on  sinning,  anxious  earth. 

Who  did  not  know  by  long  experience  the  certainty  and  rich- 
ness of  God's  daily  power  and  love  could  have  imagined  that  the 
faint  gray  hue  that  we  saw  this  morning  dimly  dividing  between 
the  blackness  of  heaven  and  the  blackness  of  earth  could  have 
widened  and  deepened  and  brightened  in  these  few  short  hours 
into  perfect  day,  opening  all  the  great  depths  of  heaven's  room, 
painting  all  the  landscape  of  earth's  loveliness,  warming  and 
waking  and  cheering  the  cold,  dead,  dreary  hearts  of  men? 


PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1857-58 

Nature  is  man's  beat  teacher  of  modesty  and  of  humble  doubt 
aa  well  as  trust  of  his  powers.  This  is  her  lesson  for  him  every 
hour.  So  long  as  each  day's  wisdom  and  study  is  perplexed  and 
put  to  shame  by  each  night's  sleep  and  dreams,  let  us  cease  to 
wonder  at  what  we  know,  let  us  stand  in  silent  awe  at  what  we 
feel,  at  what  we  are,  and  what  we  dimly  discern  around  us. 

"Though  we  now  read  the  hymn  to  Demeter, "  says  Grote,  "as 
pleasing  poetry,  to  the  Eleusinians,  for  whom  it  was  composed,  it 
was  genuine  and  sacred  history."  So  pass  the  deep  beliefs  and 
earnest  realities  of  antiquity  into  modern  tastes  and  pleasures. 
But  truly  it  was  a  noble  groundwork  of  a  faith.  The  great  Mater 
Dolorosa  of  the  gods  and  her  long  anguish  and  final  exaltation,  all 
bound  to  daily  human  life,  which  recognized  her  as  the  giver  of 
ripe  corn-fields  for  their  hunger,  and  in  the  solemn  mysteries  as 
the  sower  of  deep  seed  thought  for  earnest  life.  How  the  hymn 
opens  with  that  sweet  scene  of  nymphs  gathering  the  crocus  and 
lily  on  the  plain;  then  Pluto  rising  from  his  realm,  and  the 
frightened  Proserpina  borne  off  with  only  thin-veiled  Hecate  and 
King  Helios  to  see.  Then  the  divine  mother  made  human  by 
her  woe  in  her  weary  search  for  her  lost  daughter,  till  she  comes 
and  sits  there,  "  in  the  cool  shade  above  her,  where  grew  the  deep 
darkness  of  olives."  Then  the  beautiful  daughters  of  Celeus 
coming,  in  the  pure  homeliness  of  the  old  life,  to  fill  their  pitchers 
at  the  spring,  —  "Four,  such  as  goddesses  are,  yet  having  the 
bloom  of  the  maiden ;  "  their  hurried  bringing  of  the  old  nurse 
home  to  their  good  mother  Melaneia.  The  simple  lambe,  cheat- 
ing a  smile  from  the  sad  face  with  her  drollery  of  rustic  mirth, 
the  little  DemophoOn  given  to  the  stranger's  care,  her  gracious 
acts  discovered  by  the  mother's  anxious  watchfulness.  Then  as 
the  goddess  stands  discovered,  the  interest  brought  home  and 
made  an  heirloom  to  Eleusis  by  the  commanded  temple  and  the 
promised  grace.  Then  the  change  from  the  household  to  the 
skies,  the  long  sad  year  of  fruitless  fields,  afflicting  men  and 
gods.  "Many  a  well-bent  plough  the  steers  dragged  in  vain 
through  the  corn-lands.  Many  the  seed  of  white  barley  on  the 
earth  that  was  fruitlessly  scattered."  The  late  restoral  of  Per- 
sephone ;  the  happy  bringing  back  of  Ceres  to  the  sky ;  the  kindly 
lesson  of  husbandry  and  worship  that  made  Eleusis  thence  a 
blessed  place  forever.  How  the  old  story  must  have  twined 
around  the  city's  life,  while  processions  and  ceremonies  and  creeds 
thenceforth  made  the  old  myth  forever  new,  the  wonderful  ca- 
dence of  the  old  hymn  beating  the  measure  of  Eleusinian  life  all 
through  the  years.  Truly  humanity  yearns  for  the  divine,  is 
drawn  by  its  beauty  to  the  beautiful,  catches,  while  it  dreams  of 


JET.  21-22]     INWARD  DEVELOPMENT        235 

the  grand,  holy,  righteous  powers  of  nature,  something  of  their 
grandeur  and  holiness  and  truth. 

A  score  of  other  passages  might  be  quoted  to  illustrate 
how  closely  allied  his  spirit  was  with  the  life  of  organic  na- 
ture. He  was  quick  to  see  any  analogy  between  the  life 
of  the  spirit  in  man  and  the  phenomena  of  the  outer  world. 
He  makes  an  extract  from  the  De  Resurrectione  of  Tertul- 
lian,  which  for  this  reason  must  have  impressed  him,  that  it 
connects  the  resurrection  of  the  body  with  the  process  of 
nature :  — 

The  whole,  therefore,  of  this  revolving  order  of  things  bears 
witness  to  the  resurrection  of  the  dead.  In  his  works  did  God 
write  it  before  He  wrote  it  in  the  Scriptures;  He  proclaimed  it 
in  his  mighty  deeds  earlier  than  in  his  inspired  words.  He  first 
sent  Nature  to  you  as  a  teacher,  meaning  to  send  Prophecy  also 
as  a  supplemental  instructor,  that,  being  Nature's  disciple,  you 
may  more  easily  believe  Prophecy,  and  without  hesitation  accept 
it  when  you  come  to  hear  what  you  have  already  discovered  on 
every  side;  nor  doubt  that  God,  whom  you  have  discovered  to  be 
the  restorer  of  all  things,  is  likewise  the  reviver  of  the  flesh.  (De 
Res.,  xii.) 

Truly  there  was  a  clearness  and  a  power  in  those  old  eyes  and 
ears  that  have  died  out  of  ours.  We  hear  no  voices  on  the  sum- 
mer wind ;  no  merry  faces  laugh  up  their  beauty  tones  from  the 
sunny  sea;  no  Dryads  flit  away  before  us  down  their  forest  paths. 
To  us  the  black  cloud  is  a  black  cloud,  and  not  a  power ;  the  clear 
sky  only  a  clear  sky,  and  not  a  smile ;  our  sun  is  not  a  god,  our 
stars  no  happy  choirs  of  singing  graces,  making  night  day  with 
the  sweet  chorus  of  their  perfect  loveliness.  We  have  learnt  a 
moral  beauty  of  ethics  and  of  faith,  found  cheer  in  sorrow  and 
gladness  in  despair,  but  we  have  lost  the  daily  beauty  that  fills 
earth  now  just  as  it  filled  it  then.  No  Aurora,  rosy-fingered, 
brightens  our  daily  morning,  no  Vesper,  pensive-faced,  draws 
calmly  on  our  night.  Yet  beauty  is  no  foe  to  faith  nor  merry- 
hearted  fancy  to  the  soberness  of  sterling  thought.  The  boy  is 
very  weak  that  dares  outgrow  his  boyhood  fully  as  he  grows  a 
man.  It  will  be  a  happy  day  for  man  when  he  once  more  has 
eyes  to  see  the  wondrous  beauty  and  perennial  youth  of  earth, 
that  is  his  mother  and  sister  in  the  love  of  God. 

It  was  inevitable  that  in  one  of  his  Puritan  descent,  whose 


236  PHILLIPS  BROOKS         [1857-58 

blood  was  filled  with  moral  purpose,  there  should  be  closely 
related  to  this  love  of  nature  an  ethical  ideal,  taking  the 
precedence,  and  bending  even  the  beauty  and  glory  as  well 
as  the  order  of  the  natural  world  to  the  illustration  of  a  rigid 
unbending  moral  aim :  — 

We  believe  in  the  same  power  of  Nature  to  join  a  broken  life 
as  to  unite  the  pieces  of  a  broken  bone.  Error,  ignorance,  care, 
pride,  or  prejudice  has  struck  our  life  and  it  has  yielded  to  the 
shock,  but  bring  the  jagged  ends  together  and  leave  them  to  the 
quiet  influence  of  time,  and  Nature's  moral  laws  will  do  their 
silent  work,  and  our  life  rise  up  to  do  its  part  again  among  the 
busy  lives  of  men. 

While  this  morning  sunrise  is  rosy  with  the  memory  of  last 
night's  sunlight,  while  noon  looks  longingly  down  the  eastern  sky 
that  it  has  travelled,  and  onward  to  the  night  to  which  it  hastens, 
while  month  links  in  with  month,  and  season  works  with  season 
and  year  joins  hand  with  year  in  the  long  labor  of  the  world's 
hard  life,  there  is  a  lesson  for  us  all  to  learn  of  the  unity  and 
harmony  of  our  existence.  Let  us  take  the  lesson,  and,  with  it 
in  our  hearts,  go  out  to  be  more  tolerant,  more  kindly,  and  more 
true  in  all  the  social  strivings  of  our  fellow  men.  Let  us  carry 
it  back  with  us  to  history,  and  forward  with  us  in  our  dr earnings 
of  the  years  to  come.  It  will  make  us  better  and  stronger. 

Let  there  be  no  delay,  but  let  there  be  no  hothouse  forcing  of 
our  powers.  If  Nature  is  twenty  years  building  our  bodies,  let 
us  grudge  no  needful  time  to  build  our  minds.  If  she  is  content 
to  spend  the  slow  months  of  a  long  sunny  spring  and  summer  in 
painting  the  flower's  petal  and  an  insect's  wing,  which  the  quick 
decay  of  autumn  is  to  make  as  if  it  had  not  been,  let  us  shrink 
from  no  length  of  labor,  or  minuteness  of  finish,  or  conscientious 
thoroughness  of  every  part  of  every  work  that  is  entrusted  to  our 
hands,  vindicating  by  an  earnest  life  of  patient  toil  our  right  to 
the  great  privilege  of  duty. 

Some  purity  and  peace  will  evermore 
Break  in  upon  our  life  of  care  and  sin, 

As  heedless  ears  that  pass  the  church's  door 
Catch  fragments  of  the  swelling  psalm  within. 

He  was  occupied  with  the  problem  of  the  relation  between 
humanity  and  its  outward  environment.  Great  as  is  his  love 
of  nature,  yet  his  interest  in  humanity  and  human  history  is 
greater.  He  will  not  admit  for  a  moment  that  man  is  a  blot 


MT.  21-22]     INWARD  DEVELOPMENT       237 

upon  the  landscape  or  that  the  deeds  of  man  disfigure  nature. 
Here  is  a  passage  from  his  note-book,  incorporated  afterwards 
in  his  lecture  on  Poetry,  which  may  be  taken  as  a  speci- 
men of  many  similar  utterances.  Nature  was  after  all  more 
beautiful  for  the  human  thoughts  it  suggested  than  for  itself 
alone.  He  felt  the  weight  of  the  ideas  and  institutions  of  an 
earlier  time,  but  he  did  not  fly  to  nature  in  the  manner  of 
Rousseau,  moved  by  some  transcendental  principle  as  a  mode 
of  escape  from  them.  He  would  reconcile  himself  to  them 
in  some  other  way,  by  penetrating  to  their  genuine  human 
quality  as  manifestations  of  the  human  soul. 

Every  earthly  scene  is  imperfect,  as  Eden  was,  without  man's 
presence.  Hill  and  trees  and  clouds,  waves  on  the  seashore, 
willows  by  the  river's  side,  fields  with  their  broad  green  beauty 
stretching  out  of  sight,  lack  with  all  their  loveliness  one  element 
of  poetry,  gain  it  only  when  a  human  home  stands  in  their  midst, 
and  the  signs  of  human  work  are  seen  among  them.  Man  may 
mar  the  beauty  of  their  first  creation,  spoil  or  soil  them  with  his 
clumsy  efforts  to  turn  them  into  use,  or  even  in  mere  human 
wantonness  take  pleasure  in  turning  the  usefulness  that  God  has 
given  them  into  uselessness ;  but,  in  spite  of  all  this,  earth  gains 
more  from  human  life  than  she  suffers  from  human  mischief.  It 
gives  a  point  and  purpose  to  her  life,  gives  her  that  without  which 
all  life  is  death.  Step  now  inside  the  little  world  that  you  and  I 
are  carrying  within  us.  Here,  too,  there  is  deficiency  till  man 
comes  in.  The  beauty  of  dumb  nature  may  be  there,  the  gran- 
deur of  abstract  truth,  the  delicacy  of  refined  imagination,  but 
unless  there  be  among  them  all  some  home  of  sympathy  where  our 
fellow  man  may  have  a  dwelling,  where  he  may  live  the  true  ruler 
of  all  the  nature  around  him,  the  true  centre  of  all  the  world 
there,  acknowledged  and  served  by  it  as  such,  unless  we  feel  for 
one  another  as  well  as  live  for  one  another,  we  have,  consciously 
or  unconsciously,  a  deep  want  within,  poets  are  things  we  do  not 
comprehend,  and  poetry,  no  wonder,  is  jargon  to  our  eyes.1 

In  the  development  of  a  life,  it  is  generally  true  that  the 
intellect  first  takes  the  lead,  coming  first  to  maturity,  to  be 
followed  by  the  growth  of  the  moral  sentiment,  which  comes 
latest  to  its  full  strength  and  indeed  continuing  to  grow 
after  the  intellect  has  become  stationary  and  even  retrograde, 

1  Cf.  Essay*  and  Addresses,  p.  245. 


23  8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1857-58 

If  we  apply  this  generalization  to  Phillips  Brooks,  we  find 
him  at  this  time  in  the  full  possession  of  his  intellectual 
strength,  rejoicing  in  the  power  of  the  divinely  given  reason, 
discerning  the  principles  which  were  to  guide  his  future  life. 
Yet  is  it  also  the  case  that  the  moral  nature  was  now  asserting 
itself,  qualifying  and  conditioning  every  intellectual  conclu- 
sion. In  the  main,  however,  the  principle  holds  true  that  in 
these  earlier  years  the  intellect  kept  the  ascendency,  for  a 
great  work  was  to  be  done  through  the  critical  function  in 
order  to  adjust  his  own  individual  reason  with  the  reason  of 
humanity.  That  problem  he  never  lost  sight  of  throughout 
his  life.  It  had  first  confronted  him  in  college;  he  is  still 
seeking  for  its  solution,  as  may  be  seen  in  the  extracts  that 
follow :  — 

We  may  judge  pretty  well  what  claim  our  thoughts  have  to  our 
hospitality  and  regard  by  considering  how  they  present  them- 
selves to  us.  We  may  judge  of  thoughts  as  of  other  guests.  If 
they  come  frankly  up,  and  strike  boldly  at  our  doors,  and  bid  us 
admit  them  and  welcome  them  for  the  message  that  they  bring, 
ready  to  speak  freely  with  us,  ready  to  be  questioned,  ready  to 
claim  and  prove  kindred  to  other  thoughts  which  we  have  taken 
to  our  heart  in  other  days,  —  then  we  may  take  them  by  the  hand 
and  lead  them  in  and  grow  stronger  for  their  presence.  But  if 
we  find  them  "climbing  up  some  other  way,"  creeping  in  thief-like 
in  the  dark  night  or  busy  day,  when  no  one  can  see  or  no  one  will 
notice,  or  imposing  upon  us  with  false  pretences  of  their  name 
and  value,  shrinking  from  scrutiny,  dark,  mysterious,  with  the 
look  of  a  concealed  secret  always  on  their  forehead,  then  the  less 
we  have  to  do  with  them  the  better;  our  minds  will  be  more 
healthy  when  they  are  away,  for  then  we  shall  at  least  know  what 
guests  we  are  harboring,  and  not  tremble  at  the  look  of  our  own 
thought  when  we  meet  it  face  to  face  in  the  heart's  chamber. 

Oh,  for  more  capacity  to  learn  of  all  that  has  truth  to  teach.  It 
will  truly  be  a  gain  when  we  can  join  each  thought  we  meet  by 
chance  along  our  ways,  as  we  sometimes  talk  an  hour  with  a 
traveller  who  happens  to  be  going  a  mile  or  two  upon  our  road ; 
and  despite  of  difference  of  taste  or  habits,  enter  for  a  little  while 
into  his  life,  learn  what  he  is  doing  for  our  common  world,  and 
recognize  in  him  a  fellow  laborer,  doing,  perhaps  in  widely  dif- 
ferent ways,  the  same  work  that  we  are  doing.  Our  thoughts 
will  be  stronger  and  freer  for  this  chance  meeting  with  a  stranger 


JET.  21-22]     INWARD  DEVELOPMENT       239 

thought,  and  when  our  roads  part  and  we  bid  him  farewell  for- 
ever we  shall  carry  some  truth  off  with  us  for  a  memento  of  the 
meeting,  which,  as  we  use  it  years  after  and  miles  away,  shall 
make  us  bless  that  journey  and  that  chance  companionship. 

Our  gradual  learning  of  our  powers  is  in  truth  a  blessed  thing. 
Suppose  that  we  woke  with  one  sudden  thrill  to  our  sense  of  logic 
or  of  thought,  breaking  with  a  flood  of  thought  all  at  once  from 
a  purely  animal  into  the  full  noon  of  intellectual  being !  How 
could  the  body  or  mind  endure  it;  how  could  the  weak  machinery 
of  our  physical  existence  be  strong  enough  for  the  endowment  of 
each  nerve  with  reason,  each  sense  with  sentiment,  the  great  sys- 
tem of  life  with  the  deep  consciousness  and  joy  of  living  ? 

Oh,  for  a  wider  life  where  flower 

With  more  of  breath  gains  more  of  bloom ; 

With  more  of  peace  since  more  of  power, 
And  more  of  rest  since  more  of  room. 

The  trains  of  thought,  that  are  strong  cords  to  bind  the  loose 
bundles  of  our  life  together. 

One  single  thought  has  power  to  keep  our  strength  alive. 

Our  best  and  strongest  thoughts,  like  men's  earliest  and  rudest 
homes,  are  found  or  hollowed  in  the  old  primeval  rock.  In  some 
cleft  of  truth  we  find  shelter,  and  all  the  strength  that  has  been 
treasured  up  in  meeting  the  storms  of  centuries  is  made  available 
for  our  protection.  Not  till  our  pride  rebels  against  the  archi- 
tecture of  these  first  homes  and  we  go  out  to  build  more  stately 
houses  of  theory  and  speculation  and  discovery  and  science,  do 
we  begin  to  feel  the  feebleness  that  is  in  us,  how  doubt  makes  the 
joints  of  our  structure  weak,  and  prejudice  spoils  all  its  fair  pro- 
portions, and  our  ignorance  is  stronger  than  our  skill  at  every 
step. 

After  all,  how  it  is  in  a  few  great  tracts  of  hard  granitic  truth, 
the  deep  accumulations  of  dead  years,  that  this  whole  modern 
world  of  ours  rests,  waiting  for  the  manifold  change  of  time.  In 
their  clefts  and  ridges  lies  the  alluvium  of  modern  theory  and 
thought,  wherein  we  plant  and  tend  the  bright  flowers  and  sunny 
fruits  of  our  daily  life;  but  when  we  would  found  a  system- 
structure  that  shall  stand,  how  we  dig  deep  till  we  find  the  solid 
rock  and  build  on  that;  when  we  would  start  a  fountain  that 
shall  quench  our  soul's  deep  thought,  how  we  pierce  down  to  the 
gushings  of  the  living  streams  that  flow  between  its  strata;  when 
we  would  read  the  moral  history  of  our  earth,  how  we  find  it  writ- 
ten in  the  piled  stones  of  those  dark  foundations. 


a4o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1857-58 

Life  beams  warmer  and  brighter  now  than  it  did  then,  because 
our  new  science  and  ethics  and  tastes  and  faith  are  so  many  aids 
to  help  its  free  burning.  Our  gain  is  just  that  which  our  fathers 
made  when  they  discovered  chimneys  and  began  to  use  them,  in- 
stead of  letting  their  smoke  out  as  their  fathers  had  done  by  a 
hole  in  the  roof,  or  suffering  it  to  drift  about  and  settle  in  black- 
ness on  their  furniture  and  ceilings. 

The  autobiographical  quality  in  these  utterances  entrusted 
to  the  note-books  is  sometimes  so  veiled  by  an  impersonal 
objective  manner  as  to  be  hardly  apparent;  at  other  times 
we  are  aware  of  the  personality  behind  them,  thrilling  with 
excitement  under  new  discoveries  that  enlarge  the  bounda- 
ries of  his  intellectual  life.  In  the  latter  case  he  does  not 
appear  as  a  pioneer  in  search  of  new  thought,  but  the  mental 
growth  which  is  the  sign  of  advancing  life  is  mediated  by 
entering  more  deeply  into  the  meaning  of  familiar  truths  that 
have  been  waiting  to  be  understood.  His  ruling  idea  is  that 
history  contains  the  material  with  which  the  intellect  must 
deal,  and  the  agency  or  coin  we  must  offer  in  order  to  trans- 
fer it  into  our  own  being  is  faith.  Of  things  new  and  old  in 
the  past,  freely  offered  to  the  reason  and  soul  of  man,  there 
is  this  condition  only  for  their  reception :  Believe  and  thou 
shah  have  them  for  thine  own.  At  this  time  as  through  all 
his  later  life  the  secret  of  power  was  to  enter,  and  ever  more 
deeply,  into  tbe  meaning  of  old  familiar  things.  In  this  lay 
the  principle  of  progress :  — 

How  sometimes  with  a  touch  of  vulgar  circumstance  we  wake  to 
a  thought  that  we  have  been  thinking,  or  a  faith  that  we  have  been 
feeling,  for  long  years  and  known  it  not ;  how  the  phenomena  of 
our  life  are  torn  aside,  and  we  look  deep  down  into  its  substance 
on  whose  broad  bosom  all  our  hopes  and  plans  and  loves  have  been 
built  all  through  these  years  of  hating,  planning,  loving,  hoping, 
when  we  were  proud  and  conscious  of  the  living,  but  knew  nothing 
of  the  life.  For  thought  and  faith  lie  too  deep  within  us  for  our 
blind  eyes  to  see  or  our  weak  hands  to  grasp  them. 

The  great  thing  in  reading  a  noble  book,  or  talking  with  a 
noble  man,  or  thinking  on  a  noble  name  in  history,  is  to  get  our- 
selves within  the  sphere  of  the  nobleness  that  we  are  dealing  with. 
Its  scope  is  large,  and  at  its  outer  borders,  just  within  which  only 
we  perhaps  can  hope  to  creep,  the  beating  of  the  great  heart  at 


JET.  21-22]    INWARD  DEVELOPMENT       241 

the  centre  may  be  barely  sensible  to  us.  But  we  shall  find  that 
those  faint  throbbings,  that  die  almost  away  before  they  reach  our 
distance,  yet  come  to  us  with  a  kind  of  power  that  we  never 
dreamt  of  before  we  entered  in  and  began  to  be,  however  weakly,  a 
part  of  the  genius  and  the  goodness  we  love.  We  are  feeling  now 
what  we  only  saw  before.  It  is  all  the  difference  between  stand- 
ing on  the  rocks  and  wondering  at  the  great  white  waves,  and 
finding  ourselves  cast  helpless  among  them,  a  part  of  the  wild 
tumult,  feeling  our  weakness  overpoweringly  in  the  fury  of  their 
strength. 

There  is  truly  something  for  us  to  tremble  at  in  our  individ- 
uality. We  are  born  alone,  we  die  alone,  and  from  birth  to 
death  how  much  we  live  alone.  How  little  the  words  and  deeds 
and  courtesies  of  daily  life  have  power  to  bind  us  to  our  neighbor. 
How  little  we  know  of  him;  how  little  he  knows  of  us. 

It  is  worth  losing  or  ruining  a  party  or  a  nation  now  and  then, 
if  thereby  a  great  fame  and  a  great  man  be  given  to  the  world. 

One  is  struck  with  the  persistent  use  of  analogy  or  com- 
parison in  these  quotations,  how  it  lends  ornament  to  his 
thought  and  quickens  interest  in  his  statement,  but  above  all 
confirms,  as  though  it  carried  with  it  the  nature  of  argument 
and  solid  proof.  It  seems  to  be  assumed  that  there  can  be 
no  clear  insight  until  the  appropriate  analogy  has  been  dis- 
covered. There  is  some  mystery  in  this  use  of  analogy,  but 
it  points  to  the  unity  of  life,  to  the  conviction  that  the  divine 
will  has  ordered  the  creation  in  harmony  with  and  for  the 
reinforcement  of  the  spiritual  man.  This  was  the  dawning 
conviction  in  the  soul  of  Phillips  Brooks,  which  was  to  con- 
stitute in  ever-increasing  degree  the  strength  of  his  man- 
hood, the  principle  that  all  life  is  one  great  harmonic  chorus 
appealing  to  the  individual  soul  to  join  in  the  universal 
strain.  In  connection  with  this  employment  of  analogy  is 
his  constant  tendency  to  personify  truth,  to  speak  of  abstrac- 
tions, as  some  would  regard  them,  as  living  entities.  It  may 
be  the  sign  of  a  poetic  temperament,  or  the  coincidence  with 
that  beautiful  feature  of  ancient  thought,  which  viewed  the 
world  in  all  its  agencies  as  alive,  and  as  adumbrating  a  higher 
life  in  the  eternal  heavens.  However  it  may  be,  it  appears 
as  a  constituent  element  in  the  formative  process  which  we 


242  PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [1857-58 

are  here  seeking  to  trace.  The  word  "truth  "  like  the  word 
"life"  is  already  one  of  the  great  recurring  words  in  his 
vocabulary.  Truth  is  a  deity  residing  in  a  temple  where 
men  may  worship.  Access  to  this  sacred  shrine  is  the  remedy 
for  controversy,  for  which  already  the  youthful  student  has 
realized  his  distaste :  — 

Truth  lives  and  thrives  in  her  fair  house  of  Learned  Theory. 
But  its  grand,  pillared  front  is  too  high,  its  wide  doors  too  rich 
and  ponderous ;  her  form  as  she  moves  within  too  fair  and  proud 
and  queenly  for  common  men  to  dare  to  come  and  enter  her  great 
gates  and  ask  to  learn  of  God  and  Nature  and  their  own  humanity 
from  her  lips.  Rather  will  they  stand  without  forever,  looking 
from  far  away  upon  the  towers  of  her  wondrous  home  and  see  the 
great  Mistress  walking  with  a  few  bold  scholars  through  the  green- 
ness of  her  trees,  deeming  it  all  a  thing  in  which  there  is  no  part 
for  them.  So  then,  fair  Truth,  that  she  may  claim  her  right  to 
govern  from  her  readiness  to  help  all  men,  lays  by  her  gorgeous 
robes,  takes  the  plain  white  mantle  of  most  simple  faith,  comes 
down  from  her  great  house,  and  goes  along  the  crowded  street  and 
close  lanes  of  poor  men's  homes,  with  a  lesson  and  a  smile  for 
each,  a  soothing  touch  for  the  sick  child's  forehead,  a  helping 
word  for  the  poor  workingwoman,  a  passing  look  that  makes  the 
strong  man's  heart  more  strong  and  happy,  long  after  she  has 
passed  back  to  her  house. 

Controversies  grow  tame  and  tiresome  to  the  mind  that  has 
looked  on  Truth.  It  was  a  happy  life  enough  when  the  ground 
was  yet  uncleared,  and  on  its  daily  hunt  of  pride  or  pleasure  it 
(the  mind)  went  out  glowing  in  the  morning,  and  came  home  at 
night-time  tired  with  its  sport.  But  one  day  when  it  comes  home 
the  place  is  changed;  a  god  has  been  there  and  the  gloom  is 
gone,  the  woods  have  passed  away,  the  weeds  are  burnt,  the 
coverts  broken  up,  and  in  the  broad  bright  plains  stands  the  temple 
of  truth,  looking  north,  east,  south,  and  west,  and  lighting  where 
it  looks.  Henceforth  it  must  be  a  life  of  worship,  of  daily  going 
in  and  out  and  doing  service  at  the  altar.  There  are  victims  to 
be  offered  and  incense  to  be  burnt,  there  are  days  of  work  and 
nights  of  prayer,  till  the  heavens  shall  be  no  more  and  Truth's 
temples  fall  when  the  truth  itself  shall  come. 

We  do  not  understand  our  life.  Truth  has  laid  her  strong  piers 
in  the  past  eternity,  and  the  eternity  to  come,  and  now  she  is 
bridging  the  intervals  with  this  life  of  ours.  ...  It  seems  to  us 


JET.  a  i-22]     INWARD  DEVELOPMENT       243 

that  she  is  building  on  the  water  and  we  stand  smiling  in  idiotic 
self-conceit  at  her  folly  and  delusion,  .  .  .  till  some  morning 
when  we  come  to  look  and  jest  as  usual,  lo,  there,  looming  up 
before  us,  is  the  great  headland  that  she  saw  all  the  time,  and 
was  all  the  time  striving  to  reach,  but  which  our  eyes  could  not 
see  and  our  hearts  denied. 

These  theological  debatings,  how  many  of  them  are  just  like 
children  fighting  about  the  nature  of  the  sun!  Why!  are  we 
not  daily  all  through  life's  journey  trusting  ourselves  to  bridges 
whose  supporting  piers  are  away  down  beneath  the  water,  believ- 
ing in  their  strength  without  a  doubt,  wondering  or  complaining 
when  by  chance  one  of  them  trembles  or  swerves  a  hair's  breadth 
in  the  storm  ?  We  walk  the  bridge  of  life.  Can  we  not  trust  its 
safety  on  the  great  resting-places  of  God's  wisdom  that  are  hid 
from  us  in  the  depths  of  the  two  eternities? 

Truth  keeps  no  secret  pensioners;  whoe'er 
Eats  of  her  bread  must  wear  her  livery  too. 
Her  temple  must  be  built  where  men  can  see ; 
And  when  the  worshipper  comes  up  to  it, 
It  must  be  in  broad  noonlight,  singing  psalms 
And  bearing  offerings,  that  the  world  may  know 
Whose  votaries  they  are  and  whom  they  praise. 

We  talk  of  harmless  error ;  no  error  is  harmless.  If  it  does  no 
other  evil  we  cannot  reckon  the  injury  that  it  does  by  merely  fill- 
ing the  place  of  truth,  .  .  .  crowding  out  of  the  world  some  part 
of  the  honesty  and  truthfulness  and  sincerity  of  which,  God  knows, 
the  world  is  bare  enough  already. 

Our  journey  before  us  to  truth  is  long  and  slow  and  hard, 
streams  to  cross  and  hills  to  climb  and  pathless  fields  to  find  our 
uncertain  way  along. 

These  extracts  are  representative,  showing  that  one  domi- 
nant motive  running  through  almost  every  page  of  these 
closely  written  note-books  is  intellectual.  Hardly  a  note 
that  does  not  indicate  the  birth  of  a  great  mind  into  a  world 
of  fresh  thought.  There  is  a  tone  of  mastery  and  sense  of 
power,  the  realization  that  he  was  stepping  into  a  rich  herit- 
age. And  yet  closely  accompanying  this  attitude,  there  is 
another  mood,  never  far  away,  lurking  in  the  corners  of  his 
mind  and  demanding  reconciliation  with  the  abounding 


*44  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1857-58 

activity  of  reason,  till  it  threatens  to  gain  the  supremacy,  — 
the  issue  of  the  conduct  of  life.  To  this  end  everything 
seems  finally  to  converge.  His  mind  was  brooding  upon  the 
meaning  of  it  all,  how  the  learning,  the  rich  treasury  of 
thoughts,  the  constant  access  to  the  temple  of  truth  wherein 
he  worshipped,  should  serve  some  practical  end.  He  will 
not  allow  that  thought  ends  with  itself.  He  does  not  collate 
ideas  for  the  purpose  of  comparison  or  discussion;  the 
contents  of  his  note-books  were  his  deepest  secret,  on  which 
he  never  spoke  with  his  friends.  But  in  his  incessant  mus- 
ings by  himself  he  revolves  the  issue  of  life  and  how  thought 
and  truth  are  related  to  it.  How  ideas  are  to  be  brought 
into  organic  relationship  with  the  will  is  still  his  problem,  as 
it  had  been  when  he  first  became  aware  of  his  intellectual 
power. 

A  moral  ideal  was  now  before  him  to  whose  increasing 
demands  he  yielded  himself  as  to  the  laws  of  his  being.  He 
records  his  conviction  that  "duty  is  more  than  doctrine," 
that  behind  the  question,  What  is  to  be  known,  lies  the  deeper 
question,  What  is  to  be  done  ?  He  thinks  that  one  may  over- 
load himself  at  the  start  in  life  with  the  hard  belief  in  all 
the  paradoxes  of  thought  and  theory,  and  thus  enfeeble  the 
simple  truth  that  is  needed  for  every  day's  support:  — 

A  fresh  thought  may  be  spoiled  by  sheer  admiration.  It  was 
given  to  us  to  work  in  and  to  live  by.  There  is  more  of  clearness 
in  our  eyes  than  of  skill  and  readiness  in  our  hands.  It  is  be- 
cause every  thought  should  minister  to  the  work  of  life  that  it 
deserves  and  claims  our  reverence.  It  will  give  its  blessing  to 
us  only  on  our  knees.  From  this  point  of  view,  thought  is  as 
holy  a  thing  as  prayer,  for  both  are  worship. 

We  need  new  standards  of  usefulness  and  use.  There  is  a 
duty  incumbent  on  us  to  recognize  and  he  grateful  for  the  slight- 
est wedge  that  began  the  work  of  opening  up  our  life.  Faith  and 
faculties  both  need  strengthening;  conscience  can  help  the  first, 
long  earnest  daily  care  helps  the  second. 

New  thoughts  entering  the  world  come  as  settlers  to  take  pos- 
session of  a  new  country.  The  old  primary  patriarchal  truths 
are  doing  their  work  in  the  centres  of  our  being,  but  there  is  con- 
stant discovery  of  new  tracks  of  territory  in  human  life,  where 


.  21-22]     INWARD  DEVELOPMENT       245 

ground  is  to  be  broken.  Life  is  developing  the  energies  of 
thought,  while  thought  is  working  out  the  richness  that  lies  hid 
in  life. 

Every  past  deed  becomes  a  master  to  us ;  we  put  ourselves  in 
the  power  of  every  act.  A  deed  simply  conceived  and  planned 
belongs  still  to  the  heritage  of  thought,  but  when  it  passes  into 
act  there  comes  a  personality  to  it,  we  gain  ownership  in  it,  and 
men  will  give  us  credit  for  its  good  and  hold  us  responsible  for 
its  ill. 

Good  morals  are  good  taste.      'T  is  well  to  know 

No  life  is  beautiful  that  is  not  good; 
It  is  increase  in  beauty  when  we  grow 

From  what  we  would  be  into  what  we  should. 

Even  in  the  old  superstitions,  the  amulets  and  charms,  saints' 
medals  and  saints'  bones,  bits  of  the  cross  and  thorns  from  the 
crown,  there  was  some  power  of  strength  in  weakness  and  safety 
in  alarm,  because  there  was  belief  in  them,  and  belief  always 
ministers  to  power. 

In  the  long  years  when  great  principles  are  busily  clothing  and 
arming  themselves  for  their  work,  our  short-sighted  weakness 
thinks  them  idle. 

Profusion,  but  no  waste ;  this  is  the  law  that  Nature  reads  us 
everywhere,  and  this  law  must  also  prevail  in  all  the  great  econo- 
mies of  life.  Some  great  true  principle  must  inspire  our  work. 
There  must  be  no  stint  of  labor  where  labor  will  tell  for  our  neigh- 
bors' happiness,  but  no  wasteful  extravagance  of  it  where  it  will 
not  profit.  Our  study  must  regulate  itself  by  the  principle  of 
profusion  that  is  not  waste.  And  so  most  of  all  must  our  faith. 
We  have  belief  enough  to  buy  all  needful  truth.  That  must  be 
our  first  care.  Then  if  there  be  any  left  we  may  spend  it  after- 
wards as  taste  and  conscience  lead.  But  it  is  at  once  foolishness 
and  wickedness  so  to  lavish  it  upon  the  luxuries  of  metaphysics 
and  of  science  that  when  we  come  to  the  providing  of  great 
household  truths,  religion,  morals,  and  the  practical  sense  whose 
needful  offices  fill  up  each  day,  we  must  stint  them  of  the  profu- 
sion that  is  their  due. 

It  is  a  very  happy  but  not  at  all  a  merry  thing  to  pass  from 
another's  mastery,  and  so  more  or  less  another's  responsibility,  into 
our  own. 

We  carry  all  our  interests  with  us,  if  we  did  but  know  it,  into 
all  our  work.  There  is  not  enough  of  us,  mind,  heart,  or  brain, 


246  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1857-58 

to  make  many  men  of,  hardly  enough  to  make  one  well.  Every 
scene  and  thought  and  habit  weaves  itself  with  every  other  to 
clothe  our  life. 

Remember  we  are  debtors  to  the  Good  by  birth,  but  remember 
we  may  become  debtors  to  the  Bad  by  life,  and  both  debts  of 
service  and  allegiance  must  be  paid  alike.  The  God  of  justice 
will  recognize  the  obligation  we  have  incurred  to  Satan  as  fully  as 
our  debt  to  Him,  and  demand  of  us  to  pay  it  with  the  dreadful 
recompense  of  guilty  conscience  and  polluted  life  and  yean  of  fear 
and  cares  even  to  the  uttermost  farthing. 

How  hard  it  is  while  all  conspire 
To  make  the  lower  seem  the  higher, 

The  baser  seem  the  better  part, 
To  keep  a  mind  unconquered  still, 
A  purpose  true,  a  steadfast  will, 

A  conscious  peace  of  head  and  heart. 

If  we  could  find  some  soul  so  pure  that  we  might  say  of  its 
life,  Here  is  a  spirit  that  has  made  the  flesh  its  helper  and  its 
slave,  not  its  partner  and  its  lord,  then  we  might  test  our  own 
life  by  that  soul's  working,  know  that  deeds  of  which  he  was 
capable  were  pure  and  holy,  unstained  by  fleshly  corruption.  But 
no  human  life  can  give  us  such  a  test.  By  approximation  only 
can  we  make  such  use  of  human  lives.  We  must  use  our  truth 
the  other  way.  This  deed  must  be  deed  for  carnal  and  not 
saintly  minds,  because  I  find  what  spirituality  there  is  in  me, 
what  energy  of  spirit  there  is  in  all  our  human  race,  protesting 
against  it,  shrinking  from  it,  growing  weak  or  dead  when  it  has 
yielded  to  its  power. 

He  was  meditating  constantly  upon  all  the  fundamental 
appearances  of  things,  the  sun  and  the  sunlight,  the  hills  and 
the  mountains,  the  rocks  and  their  crevices,  the  ocean,  the 
waves,  the  tide,  the  green  fields  and  the  rivers;  all  the  phe- 
nomena in  the  life  of  man,  his  toil,  his  suffering,  his  evil  and 
sin ;  but  the  aspiration  also,  —  the  hunger  and  the  thirst  for 
good ;  the  city  streets,  the  traffic,  the  cares  of  business,  coun- 
try lanes,  the  flowers,  the  sabbath  bells,  the  churches;  the 
Christian  festivals  and  the  divisions  of  time,  the  lapse  of 
ages,  the  roll  of  past  centuries,  the  great  works  of  the  past, 
the  hopes  of  the  present,  human  progress,  its  faith,  its  hopes 
and  fears.  He  is  impressed  with  finding  that  in  past  ages 


.  21-22]     INWARD  DEVELOPMENT       247 

there  were  always  the  same  doubts,  the  same  mysteries,  that 
oppress  humanity  to-day,  but  meanwhile  the  world  pro- 
gresses. God  meant  it  so  to  be,  that  each  succeeding  age 
should  draw  new  strength  and  use  from  its  doubts  and  sense 
of  the  mystery  of  the  things.  The  idea  of  perpetual  growth 
is  the  ruling  idea  of  religion  and  moral  culture. 

He  meditates  upon  study  and  its  relation  to  the  coming 
years.  It  is  simply  putting  the  human  powers  at  interest,  in 
order  to  draw  their  accumulations  hereafter.  The  thought 
of  death,  its  meaning,  its  relation  to  life,  is  constantly  before 
hun.  There  are  unuttered  thoughts  in  every  man  that  give 
unconscious  motive  to  action,  like  the  Jewish  name  of  God 
which  was  not  pronounced.  All  historical  facts  and  situa- 
tions become  parables  with  a  wider  application.  Thus  he 
muses  over  Tertullian's  challenge  to  the  ancient  world  which 
has  lost  its  faith  in  the  worship  of  the  gods  of  Olympus: 
"Quid  ergo  colunt,  qui  talia  non  colunt?  "  A  new  and 
higher  reverence  must  always  await  the  decline  of  the  old 
faith.  The  crusades  of  the  Middle  Ages  point  to  the  con- 
stant necessity  of  spiritual  search  for  Christ  in  his  native 
land  and  country.  One  reason  why  men  cling  to  the  old 
machinery  after  it  is  useless  is  their  dread  of  the  first  cost 
of  introducing  the  new.  It  is  shiftless  housekeeping  to  fill 
the  attics  with  rubbish,  thinking  it  may  some  time  be  useful. 
He  meets  in  Coleridge  the  familiar  passage  which  speaks  of 
every  man  as  born  a  Platonist  or  an  Aristotelian.  He  does 
not  apply  it  to  himself,  or  ask  which  he  may  be,  but  he  com- 
ments on  the  deduction  how  all  the  great  questions  of  the 
mind  are  broader  than  they  seem,  how  great  men  are  bound 
most  closely  to  their  race.  The  daily  questions  of  interest 
or  truth  win  wider  scope,  and  are  part  of  the  development  of 
eternity.  He  resents  the  theory  as  false  that  we  ought  not 
to  criticise  faults  in  our  neighbor's  life,  unless  we  have  the 
purity  and  truth  in  ourselves  we  demand  in  him:  — 

It  is  false  because  it  ignores  that  self-criticism  which  every 
honest  man  is  far  readier  to  bring  in  judgment  to  his  own  heart 
than  to  his  brother's  life.  A  true  man's  ideal  once  worthily  set 
up,  it  is  as  much  a  sin  against  that  standard  to  overlook  another's 


248  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1857-58 

failure  as  to  flatter  and  disguise  our  own.  In  no  malignant,  or 
envious,  or  unworthy  sense,  our  own  imperfection  is  ever  crying  in 
our  ears  that  our  neighbors  are  imperfect  too. 

He  is  wondering  why  the  great  truths  that  possess  the 
power  of  remaking  the  soul  for  a  higher  life  should  become 
trite  and  lose  their  appeal :  — 

We  may  make  it  a  rule  that  whenever  there  is  triteness,  there 
is  some  lack  of  truth;  some  falsehood,  open  or  concealed  in 
speaker  or  hearer,  wherein  the  triteness  and  tediousness  consist. 
If  when  a  man  is  preaching  what  the  whole  gospel  of  nature  and 
revelation  forbids  us  to  believe  untrue,  we  yet  find  it  dry  and 
tame,  it  may  be  well  for  us  to  pause  and  ask  for  the  seat  of  the 
untruth  we  may  be  sure  there  is  somewhere.  It  may  be  in  him. 
The  words  he  says  may  be  tinged  with  the  insincerity  of  the  mouth 
that  says  them.  .  .  .  Or  it  may  be  in  us,  for  our  frivolity  may 
be  so  estranged  from  earnestness  or  moral  truth  that  it  does  not 
even  know  its  own  footstep.  ...  Or  again  it  may  be  in  circum- 
stances and  relations.  For  there  is  a  truth  of  time  as  well  as  a 
truth  of  purpose  and  fact.  But  one  thing  is  certain :  the  trite- 
ness must  be  in  some  falseness  somewhere,  for  truth  is  never  trite. 
We  pray  the  prayer  and  read  the  Bible  of  the  old  fathers  with  as 
much  fresh  comfort  and  delight  as  we  see  the  old  sun  rise  every 
morning. 

In  passages  like  this  we  may  discern  the  preacher  gather- 
ing strength  and  conviction  for  his  task  of  making  the  old 
truth  live  as  new.  Throughout  these  note-books,  indeed,  the 
consciousness  of  an  invisible  audience  to  whom  he  is  speaking 
is  always  present.  He  rarely  writes  out  a  thought  entirely 
for  his  own  satisfaction  in  the  love  of  expression,  without 
this  waiting  presence  of  others  upon  whom  he  is  urging  it 
by  its  rhetorical  clothing  or  its  most  forcible  presentation. 
It  is  a  singular  conjunction  of  deep  personal  utterance,  with 
an  absolutely  impersonal  form  of  expression.  The  veil  of 
reserve  is  over  his  spirit,  even  when  he  is  most  completely 
embodying  himself.  It  almost  seems  as  if  he  regarded  him- 
self even  in  these  private  records  as  merely  a  channel  of 
communication,  giving  to  others  what  he  has  received. 
Nothing  stops  with  himself,  nor  any  thought  or  emotion  ends 
in  himself.  He  was  the  lyre  on  which  the  Spirit  was  playing. 


MT.  21-22]     INWARD  DEVELOPMENT       249 

There  is  one  passage  which  is  most  emphatic,  however,  in 
communicating  his  secret :  — 

If  we  talk  with  any  weak  companion  that  we  meet  of  religion, 
of  friendship,  and  truth,  then  friendship  will  cease  to  be  beautiful 
and  religion  to  he  holy,  and  truth  will  turn  to  falsehood,  the  trust 
and  honor  of  our  life  be  turned  to  doubt  and  baseness.  In  course 
of  time  we  come  to  the  knowledge  of  this  mental  domestic  econ- 
omy, learn  to  keep  our  heavy  plate  and  fine  apparel  carefully 
cupboarded,  till  some  guest  come  to  our  table  whom  we  can  hon- 
estly wish  to  honor,  not  bringing  forth  all  our  little  wealth  for 
every  idle  loiterer  that  saunters  to  our  door  and  sits  down  unbid- 
den to  eat  our  hard-earned  bread.  Then  when  a  true  guest  comes, 
we  have  at  least  some  extraordinary  show  of  welcome  to  make 
him,  and  can  bring  out  our  little  hoarded  stock  and  spread  our 
board  as  best  we  can,  and  say,  Sit  down ;  my  best  is  bad,  but  in 
that  it  is  my  best,  and  in  that  I  have  treasured  it  so  long,  you 
will  not  refuse  to  do  it  honor  now. 

This  hoarded  stock,  which  he  was  reserving  until  the  fit- 
ting honored  guest  might  come,  is  displayed,  though  by  no 
means  in  its  completeness,  in  the  passages  like  these  that 
follow :  — 

I  believe  in  these  things  because  I  know  that  they  have  helped 
my  race.  I  look  to  them  as  I  look  to  the  sun  with  a  faith  that 
all  the  centuries  of  sunlight  forbid  me  to  disown.  I  hear  them 
from  the  Bible  claiming  my  allegiance,  as  from  all  nature  I  hear 
God's  voice  demanding  that  I  should  give  reason  room  to  grow  to 
trust  and  love. 

Homer  is  no  more  ancient  to  us  than  he  was  to  Chapman ;  nay, 
these  two  hundred  years,  while  they  have  been  busy  making  Chap- 
man obsolete,  have  been  bringing  Homer  nearer  to  us  every  day ; 
and  two  centuries  hence  his  Greek  will  be  as  much  the  world's 
vernacular  as  now.  Immortality  has  once  thought  to  take  a  great 
man's  memory  out  of  Time's  careless  keeping  to  her  own;  thence- 
forth the  coming  and  going  of  years  and  languages  and  men  is 
nothing  to  it.  It  lives,  like  the  stars,  above  the  accidents  of 
mortal  change. 

When  Solomon's  great  temple  to  the  Lord  was  done,  he  brought 
in  the  things  which  his  father  had  dedicated.  We  build  our 
temples  of  duty  and  devotion  to  the  Lord  our  God.  We  suit 
them  to  our  growing  needs,  to  the  changing  demands  of  new 
tunes  and  seasons ;  but  with  our  new  modes  and  means  of  worship, 


250  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1857-58 

we  may  set  up  in  them  too  our  fathers'  holy  things,  their  true 
old  faith  and  fervent  prayers,  the  fragrant  memory  of  their  good 
lives,  the  censers  with  the  incense  of  their  praise  still  about  them. 
So  their  dead  worship  shall  give  life  to  ours,  so  with  our  Christian 
prayers  shall  mingle  the  noble  conservatism  that  treasures  up  a 
Christian  past. 

Our  hope  is  in  this  Christian  Radicalism  which,  through  the 
myriad  shows  and  semblances  of  Christian  life,  goes  down  directly 
to  the  root  of  things,  and  clings  to  Charity,  and  says,  Lo,  out  of 
these  shall  grow  a  Christian  church  for  all  the  world,  and  out  of 
them  a  Christian  experience  for  me. 

The  awakening  to  an  old  truth  may  be  worth  more  to  us  than 
the  discovery  of  a  new.  For  in  spite  of  our  dulness  and  dead- 
ness  to  it,  it  has  still  been  slowly  ripening  our  nature  for  its  recep- 
tion and  the  final  heart-acknowledgment  of  its  truth.  This 
preliminary  process  we  do  not  feel,  but  when  the  day  of  our 
awakening  comes,  then  old  dreams  half  remembered  take  at  once 
their  proper  places,  and  we  recognize  the  growth  that  has  been 
going  on  within  us  and  now  has  brought  this  precious  truth  to 
birth. 

Every  identification  that  a  man  can  make  of  himself  with  his 
race  is  so  much  power  gained.  He  multiplies  his  life  eight  hun- 
dred million fnl<l.  The  world  was  made,  and  sun  and  stars  or- 
dained, and  salvation  sent  to  earth  for  him.  The  history  of  the 
race  becomes  his  experience,  the  happiness  of  the  race  his  glory, 
the  progress  of  the  race  his  hope. 

Any  want  of  energy  we  make  allowance  for,  any  want  of  truth 
we  all  scorn;  any  cowardice  we  pity,  any  falseness  we  despise. 
It  is  manhood's  testimony  that  man  was  made  to  be  true  more 
than  to  be  strong,  to  keep  a  soul  that  temptation  could  not  sway 
rather  than  a  nerve  that  danger  could  not  daunt.  We  learn  the 
proper  programme  of  man's  growth,  —  through  truth  to  power: 
I  am  right  and  so  I  will  be  strong ;  but  not  through  strength  to 
trueness,  —  I  am  strong  and  so  I  will  declare  that  I  am  right. 

There  are  truths  which  the  moral  state  feels  that  it  must  have, 
but  which  it  still  discredits,  —  truths  with  ungracious  offices,  the 
common  executioners,  as  it  were,  who  live  in  darkness  till  their 
help  is  needed  in  the  last  resort.  .  .  .  Such  is  the  old  stern  truth 
that  pain  and  death  must  follow  human  sin,  and  suffering  is 
linked  to  crime  by  crime's  own  nature  and  the  charter  of  our  life. 

Such  false  humility  is  out  of  place.     In  spite  of  all  our  feeble- 


.  21-22]     INWARD  DEVELOPMENT       251 

ness,  it  must  be,  not  what  the  world  can  do  for  me,  but  what  I 
can  do  for  the  world.  Surely  God  never  meant  that  conscious 
weakness  should  lessen  conscious  duty.  All  nature,  all  life,  all 
gospel  truth,  is  full  of  the  other  lesson,  that  the  more  we  measure 
ourselves  against  the  world  the  more  we  shall  see  that,  little  as 
we  are,  there  is  still  great  work  for  us  to  do  in  it.  There  is  but 
one  thing  weaker  than  the  helplessness  that  comes  of  pride,  and 
that  is  the  uselessness  that  comes  of  shame. 

I  believe  that  every  thought  accepted  by  intellect  and  con- 
science and  which  we  intend  some  time  to  accept  in  heart  and  life 
stands  less  and  less  chance  of  such  acceptance  every  day.  .  .  . 
The  longer  you  mean  to  be  a  Christian  without  being  one,  the 
worse  your  chance  of  Christianity  becomes. 

The  vessels  that  we  call  empty  are  full  to  overflowing  of 
earth's  common  air,  and  the  hearts  that  seem  to  us  most  dull  and 
vacant  have  their  true  share,  we  may  remember,  of  true  humanity, 
human  motive,  human  prejudice,  and  human  faith.  Thinking  thus 
we  may  win  for  them  something  of  that  active  regard  which,  re- 
cognizing in  them  powers  like  our  own,  wills,  hopes,  capacities  of 
truths,  may  go  on  to  feed  their  hopes  with  noble  aims,  point  their 
wills  to  worthy  deeds,  and  fill  their  souls  as  full  of  truth  as  they 
are  able  to  contain  it. 

There  is  a  little  letter  (let  us  believe  it  is  genuine)  written  by 
the  old  church  father  Hilary  of  Poitiers,  to  his  daughter  Abra,  just 
fifteen  hundred  years  ago.  We  turn  the  page  from  his  great 
treatises  and  commentaries  that  he  wrote  for  churches  and  Chris- 
tian scholars,  and  it  is  as  if  we  saw  the  old  man  himself  laying 
aside  for  a  few  moments  his  hard  work,  and  sitting  down  to  a 
fresh  parchment  for  a  few  words  to  his  little  daughter.  He  tells 
her  in  a  simple  parable  that  a  Christian  father  might  write,  and 
a  Christian  daughter  read  to-day,  how  he  wished  to  send  her  a 
gift,  and  heard  of  one  who  had  a  pearl  and  robe  of  costly  beauty ; 
how  he  was  told  of  their  wonderful  perfection,  —  that  the  robe 
should  never  soil  and  never  grow  old,  that  the  pearl  should  bless 
its  owner  with  unfading  youth  and  beauty ;  how  he  begged  them 
for  her,  and  was  told  that  she  had  only  to  be  worthy  of  them  and 
they  should  be  hers.  (Paris  ed.,  1845,  ii.,  p.  547.) 

Let  us  think  there  is  some  noble  economy  we  do  not  under- 
stand that  makes  you  and  me  as  necessary  for  our  places  here  on 
earth  as  Paul  and  Moses  were  for  theirs.  Unless  we  learn  to  feel 
our  lives  essential  we  shall  never  live  them  well.  If  the  world 
does  not  need  my  work,  there  is  little  enough  of  motive  in  myself 


252  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1857-58 

to  work  for:  why  not  let  all  this  long  toil  and  weariness  and 
weakness  rest? 

Through  the  darkness  of  church  history  comes  here  and  there 
the  light  of  some  Christian  life,  proving  by  its  positive  assertion 
the  reality  and  power  of  our  religion,  so  that  no  negative  evi- 
dence of  corruption  and  debasement  or  reigning  sin  can  make  us 
doubt  it  again.  There  is  positive  proof  in  the  single  sunbeam  of 
the  existence  of  the  sun. 

There  is  something  holier  and  stronger  and  more  immortal, 
something  harder  to  conceive  of,  harder  far  to  reach,  that  lies 
back  of  hope  and  faith  and  fear  and  reverence  and  love.  As  be- 
hind the  sun  and  clouds  and  silent  stars  lies  the  great  eternity  of 
space,  so  behind  this  man's  or  that  man's  living  or  thinking  or 
enjoying  lies  the  incomprehensible  mystery  of  life. 

Surely  it  shows  a  weak  and  fake  sense  of  the  nature  of  true 
power  that  the  great  church  rulers  had  to  forge  for  pious  use  such 
scores  of  miracles  about  their  saints.  .  .  .  We  have  outgrown 
the  need  of  miracles  like  those.  A  moral  miracle  is  growing 
more  and  more  the  test  of  saintship. 

One  great  evil  of  the  sin  that  we  are  full  of  is  that  it  takes 
away  our  right  to  be  indignant  when  other  people  sin,  and  so  in 
time  our  standard  of  thought  is  lowered  to  their  scale. 

A  community  is  not  safe  or  happy  unless  among  its  storehouses 
and  dwellings  and  schools  there  is  a  church  somewhere ;  and  in 
our  little  world  within  there  is  a  want  that  will  be  felt  till  we 
have  built  a  sanctuary  there. 

There  are  moments  in  the  midst  of  life  that  have  a  power 
almost  as  marvellous  as  death.  .  .  .  These  little  deaths  that  we 
die  daily  catch  some  of  the  wonder  of  the  death  that  we  say  so 
often  we  are  all  to  die.  We  reach  one  of  the  change  points  of 
our  life,  we  pass  from  world  to  world;  there  in  the  old  world 
behind  us  our  kind  friends  make  our  graves  and  lay  our  old  dead 
bodies  in  them,  and  sit  and  think  of  what  we  were  and  how  we 
passed  away ;  while  in  this  new  world  before  us  we  take  to  our- 
selves new  ends  and  aims  of  life,  new  hopes,  new  fears,  a  new 
existence  with  its  organs  of  growth  and  work  and  rest ;  yet  feel 
for  years  the  retribution  of  the  old  life  we  lived  so  basely,  weak- 
ening our  strength  and  strengthening  our  weakness  sadly. 

You  tell  a  child  that  he  does  not  see  solidity  or  surface  or  even 
outline,  that  these  are  only  the  induction  of  his  own  mind.  He 


AT.  21-22]     INWARD  DEVELOPMENT       253 

is  startled  and  will  not  credit  you  at  first,  but  the  crude  doubt 
grows  within  him ;  you  cannot  stop  the  train  of  thought  you  have 
started ;  and  unable  to  discover  the  true  point  and  pause  there,  he 
goes  out  from  the  healthy  realism  of  his  childhood  into  the  vague 
idealism  of  a  false  philosophy. 

Our  souls  are  tethered :  round  and  round 
One  central  point  we  wander  still, 
Like  some  poor  lamb  that  feeds  his  fill, 

And  never  knows  that  he  is  bound. 

Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread,  we  pray, 

And  give  us  likewise,  Lord,  our  daily  thought, 
That  our  poor  souls  may  strengthen  as  they  ought, 

And  starve  not  on  the  husks  of  yesterday. 

Living  a  life  that  men  shall  love  to  know 

Has  once  been  lived  on  this  degenerate  earth, 
And  sing  it  like  some  tale  of  long  ago 

In  ballad-sweetness  round  their  household  hearth. 

No  book  has  made  itself  fairly  the  possession  of  the  race  until 
it  has  made  itself  an  unconscious  necessity  of  men's  life.  .  .  . 
Almost  every  man  has  some  book  which  is  ...  not  his  master 
or  his  slave  or  his  friend  alone,  but  part  of  his  own  self.  .  .  . 
This  kind  of  book  we  do  not  study.  .  .  .  We  know  the  blessing 
that  it  brings  from  the  good  it  has  done  us  all  our  days,  and  we 
go  to  it  morning  and  night  for  our  supply. 

Age  is  so  apt  to  sneer  when  youth  pronounces  a  judgment  upon 
it.  Is  it  then  so  sure  that  youth  may  not  judge  of  age  as  age  of 
youth?  The  one  sees  by  hope,  the  other  by  memory;  the  one  by 
faith,  the  other  by  experience ;  the  one  by  the  direct  light  of  his 
own  fresh  nature,  the  other  by  the  reflected  light  of  his  own  dead 
years.  I  believe  that  a  man  of  thirty  knows  more  of  what  he 
will  be  at  sixty  than  of  what  he  was  at  twelve. 

We  overlook  too  much  the  common  daily  blessings  that  religion 
brings.  Not  least  among  these  is  the  faculty  of  finding  joy  in 
little  things,  recognizing  their  divine  bestowal,  finding  still  higher 
blessedness  in  living  out  our  gratitude  to  God. 

There  comes  a  culture  out  of  this  religious  life.  From  the 
silent  Bible  reading,  from  the  heart's  meeting  with  the  wonders 
of  the  life  divine,  there  comes  a  trueness  and  fineness,  a  manliness 
and  a  womanliness  that  courts  never  give. 


254  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1857-58 

Any  wayward  fancy,  any  headstrong  will,  any  false  instinct, 
any  vagrant  hope,  bring  them  to  the  throne  steps,  and  if  they  will 
not  kneel,  then  clear  your  heart  of  them  forever.  They  are  not 
worthy  of  your  brotherhood,  for  they  disown  the  Master  that  you 
serve,  and  you  betray  that  Master's  trust  in  trusting  them. 

Crown  the  truth  supreme  in  every  department  and  office  of  your 
soul.  Set  it  on  the  throne  with  all  the  majesty  of  kingliness 
about  it.  Stand  it  in  your  temples  and  let  the  incense  of  your 
daily  prayers  rise  up  in  all  the  beauty  of  God's  holiness  about  it. 
Make  it  your  guide  and  friend  in  all  your  hourly  business,  truth 
of  design  and  truth  of  expectation,  truth  of  plan  and  purpose  and 
labor,  truth  of  taste  and  judgment,  of  time  and  place,  let  them 
blend  to  make  your  whole  life  true  and  worthy  of  his  service  who 
is  the  Way,  and  the  Truth,  and  the  Life.  Whoever  will  not  bow 
before  this  monarch  you  have  crowned,  let  him  be  rebel  to  you. 

We  do  not  speak  alone ;  all  honor  and  virtue  of  antiquity  bear 
witness  to  our  truth,  all  its  struggles  for  a  purer  life,  all  its  cling- 
ings  to  a  truer  faith.  And  the  future  sends  its  voice  to  plead  for 
us,  all  the  hopes  of  posterity,  all  the  longings  of  our  race,  all  the 
dim  glimpses  of  truth  yet  to  be  revealed  and  blessing  yet  to  be 
attained.  .  .  .  The  whole  world  with  its  histories  and  hopes 
reasons  with  every  soul,  and  adjures  it  to  judge  wisely  and  be 
firm  and  true. 

Many  men  have  found  a  blessing  and  gone  in  and  enjoyed  it, 
other  men  may  search  their  footprints  and  find  where  they  went 
in.  But  while  the  careless  crowd  goes  streaming  by,  and  notices 
neither  the  footprints  nor  the  entrance,  it  is  no  thankless  office  if 
we  can  hang  some  signboard  of  invitation  where  it  shall  catch  the 
heedless  eye.  We  gain  something  of  the  prophet's  inspiration  if 
we  stand  in  the  doorway  and  cry,  Ho!  every  one  that  thirsteth, 
to  the  thirsty  thousands  as  they  pass. 

If  there  be  a  true  and  righteous  God,  then  from  our  human  needs 
we  may  reason  out  our  faiths  and  hopes  and  from  our  human 
capacities  infer  our  duties.  God  we  may  be  sure  will  leave  no  real 
need  of  our  nature  unappeased,  He  is  too  good  and  merciful  for 
that;  and  He  will  overlook  no  capacity  unfulfilled,  for  He  is  just 
and  righteous,  all  seeing  and  all  wise.  So  from  my  need  of  truth 
and  life,  I  argue  a  gospel  and  an  immortality ;  so  from  my  power 
to  believe  and  pray,  I  know  my  duties  of  worship  and  of  faith. 

It  is  a  dictate  of  our  simple  sense  that  the  work  that  men  are 
not  to  see  need  not  be  polished  for  men's  eyes ;  we  shape  it  with 
rough  hands  and  put  it  to  its  silent  use  and  then  forget  it.  But 


JET.  21-22]     INWARD  DEVELOPMENT      255 

we  must  remember,  too,  that  it  is  hidden  from  our  sight  as  well  as 
from  our  neighbors ;  and  when  we  are  thus  laying  the  foundations 
of  a  faith  that  we  hope  to  build  to  grace  and  truth,  it  is  best  to 
think  how  any  flaw  in  them  must  be  seen  now,  or  never;  how  this 
part  cannot  meet  our  daily  scrutiny  and  care,  but  being  done  now 
once  for  all,  must  stand  as  its  strength  will  bear  it,  bearing  the 
whole  structure's  fate  upon  its  own. 

It  was  his  method  in  composition  to  state  his  subject  in 
condensed  form,  and  then  to  expand  or  enforce  it  by  such 
appeals  as  were  at  his  disposal.  Some  of  his  representative 
thoughts  detached  from  their  exposition  are  here  given :  — 

The  wider  grows  our  knowledge,  our  thought,  our  perception, 
the  wider  grows  our  store  of  axioms.  There  is  no  mystery  but 
waits  to  have  an  axiom,  to  be  self-evident  so  soon  as  man's  mind 
grows  broad  enough  to  grasp  it. 

There  is  something  wrong  about  a  man  that  needlessly  plucks 
off  a  new  leaf-bud  from  a  forest  tree,  even  if  it  be  where  no 
human  steps  would  have  been  sheltered  by  its  shade  and  no  human 
eye  charmed  with  its  beauty. 

The  mind  that  is  thoroughly  in  earnest  feels  that  the  accept- 
ance of  the  truth  may  be  as  much  a  falsehood  as  its  rejection. 
Demanding  truth  in  the  inward  parts  it  is  ready  to  call  every 
character  that  lacks  that  inward  truth  false,  no  matter  under 
what  banner  of  orthodox  profession  or  noble  pretence  it  may  take 
its  place. 

The  foundations  lie  deep  and  broad,  and  we  call  them  truths ; 
the  structure  rises  fair  and  graceful  to  the  sky,  and  we  call  that 
system.  Time  strikes  the  structure  and  it  falls,  but  there  are  the 
old  foundations  too  strong  and  deep  for  time  to  touch  them,  and 
on  them  rise  new  structures  age  after  age. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  benefits  that  we  may  leave  for  men  to 
thank  us  for:  we  may  set  up  new  wonders  in  the  museum  of  know- 
ledge, or  we  may  merely  make  the  doorway  wider  and  access 
easier  to  the  already  crowded  halls. 

We  can  conceive  how  the  mind  that  never  felt  a  doubt  should 
be  intolerant.  But  oh,  we  who  have  labored  so,  where  none  could 
see,  to  make  our  own  faith  strong  and  true  can  sympathize  with 
every  other  soul  still  suffering  in  that  labor. 

Every  new  sympathy  according  to  its  fulness  makes  us  richer 
by  more  or  less  of  a  neighbor's  life.  In  the  infinite  sympathy  of 


256  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1857-58 

heaven,  the  whole  depth  of  high  angelic  life  shall  inspire  every 
glorified  existence. 

Now  and  then  we  seem  to  catch  some  glimpses  of  that  ideal 
world,  which  Philo  thinks  God  made  in  his  own  thought,  before 
he  made  this  world  of  sea  and  hind  we  live  in. 

Much  of  our  principle  and  knowledge  lies  by  us  all  unemployed, 
not  a  treasure  because  not  a  use,  not  truly  ours  because  rendering 
us  no  true  aid  as  a  comfort. 

Your  professed  and  habitual  disputant  is  going  wrong  because 
he  is  mistaking  his  carriage  for  his  house.  He  is  taking  the  argu- 
ments which  were  given  him  to  ride  to  truth  in  and  living  in  them 
as  truth  itself. 

The  deepest  feelings  may  find  vent  in  surface  talk :  the  depths 
of  the  ocean  are  mangled  by  the  sharp  and  cruel  rock,  the  foun- 
tains of  the  great  deep  stirred,  and  there  come  a  few  foam  bubbles 
on  the  smooth  surface  of  the  wave. 

All  mental  carelessness  lessens  our  capacity  of  faith,  makes  us 
not  only  less  believing  but  less  able  to  believe,  destroys,  as  far  as 
it  can,  our  power  to  rest  on  testimony  for  truth. 

His  heart  is  like  that  stable  at  Bethlehem,  eighteen  hundred 
Christmases  ago,  one  day  a  place  for  beasts  to  dwell  in,  the  next 
changed  to  a  holy  place  forever,  by  the  new  hope  and  salvation 
that  has  found  its  birthplace  there. 

God  is  as  willing  that  you  should  read  your  lesson  in  the  sun- 
light as  in  the  storm.  He  would  as  gladly  see  you  find  conversion 
in  the  truth  that  "God  is  love"  as  in  the  solemn  warning  that 
our  "God  is  a  consuming  fire." 

After  every  sin  comes  the  same  voice  crying,  Adam,  where  art 
thou?  and  still  the  sinner  must  answer  to  the  call,  and  to  the 
same  confession  and  sentence  and  punishment  as  of  old,  except 
that  now  the  old  dim  hope  is  clearer. 

We  mistake  the  order  of  our  worthy  human  aims.  We  would  be 
strong  and  true  at  once,  and  think  that  we  shall  win  truth  by 
striving  after  strength,  instead  of  knowing  that  we  shall  gain 
strength  just  in  degree  as  we  become  more  true. 

We  strive  too  much  to  rival  our  dead  selves.  No  deed  of 
ours  should  copy  any  former  deed,  but  be  always  looking  back  to 
the  perfect  model  of  principle  and  truth  from  which  all  our  acts, 
if  they  be  worth  repeating,  have  sprung. 


.  21-22]     INWARD   DEVELOPMENT       257 

Epigrammatic  sentences,  couplets,  terse  statements  of  great 
truths,  are  interspersed  everywhere.  He  had  great  faith  in 
the  possibility  of  turning  convictions  and  belief  into  axioms. 
One  is  reminded  of  the  Thoughts  of  Marcus  Aurelius  and 
Epictetus,  or  the  Pensees  of  Joubert.  But  it  is  all  done 
hastily,  without  revision,  without  view  to  publication,  on  the 
principle  "no  day  without  a  line." 

You  and  I  go  out  to-night  and  look  at  the  heavens  all  aflame 
with  stars  and  call  it  beauty;  but  the  wise  man  in  his  tower 
studies  these  same  bright  heavens  and  proclaims  it  law. 

If  I  knew  that  I  had  fathomed  all  the  love  or  all  the  wisdom 
of  God,  how  faith  and  reverence  and  trust  would  fall  away  from 
a  being  that  such  powers  as  mine  could  grasp. 

In  earth's  great  armory  hang  each  man's  arms  and  the  commis- 
sion that  contains  his  labors.  Is  it  manly  to  let  them  hang  there, 
and  not  take  them  down  and  be  at  work? 

The  soul  can  travel  fast.  A  moment's  sunlight  builds  the 
bridge  for  it  to  leap  to  heaven,  up  the  shining  stairs,  and  then 
come  back  to  earth. 

Earth  stands  mortgaged  to  him  by  God's  word  that  says,  Blessed 
are  the  meek.  What  need  to  vex  himself  or  his  inheritance  ? 

It  is  always  in  this  world  so  much  more  respectable  and  safe  to 
sneer  and  to  despise  than  to  admire  and  to  praise. 

Remember  that  no  doubt  that  daunted  you  along  the  way  has 
any  right  to  trouble  your  conviction  when  the  truth  is  found. 

Through  the  deep  cuts  of  human  toil,  the  rich  brains  of  human 
genius  go  flashing  on  their  way. 

We  have  no  more  right  to  confound  doubt  and  disbelief  than 
mystery  and  falsehood. 

The  gracious  mercy  that  binds  omnipotence  a  willing  servant  to 
every  humble  human  prayer. 

These  constant  forces,  faith,  conscience,  religion,  are  every- 
where consciously  or  unconsciously  at  work. 

Only  by  an  identification  of  duty  and  delight  will  life  grow  up 
into  manly  grace. 

We  know  God's  glory  only  by  God's  grace,  as  it  is  sunlight 
helps  us  see  the  sun. 


258  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1857-58 

I  think  there  are  truths  on  earth  which  are  to  us  what  Paradise 
Lost  would  have  been  to  Cicero. 

Faith  could  once  shake  mountains  ;  mountains  now  shake 
faith. 

Every  unworthy  affection  makes  us  less  able  to  love  worthily 
in  future. 

The  dear  becomes  the  beautiful ;  the  true  grows  to  be  holy  a> 
we  love  it  more. 

A  man  whose  character  spoke  with  authority  the  words  of 
wisdom  his  great  mind  conceived. 

Earth  has  grown  rich  with  the  unredeemed  pledges  of  the  ages 
of  mankind. 

Earth's  old  beliefs,  old  as  the  truths  they  cherish 
Young  as  the  youngest  heart  that  thinks  them  true. 

We  reduce  life  to  the  pettiness  of  our  daily  living;  we  should 
exalt  our  living  to  the  grandeur  of  life. 

That  age  is  noblest  that  can  keep  the  light 

With  which  youth  blessed  it,  when  it  gained  the  sight 

Of  earth's  beauty  and  divinest  night. 

^)  Vice  claims  a  wideness  goodness  never  wins,  — 

Endemic  virtues,  epidemic  sins. 

A  boy's  yearning  for  fame  grows  into  a  man's  care  for  repu- 
tation. 

We  must  answer  for  our  actions;  God  will  answer  for  our 
powers. 

It  makes  life  seem  so  purposeless  and  yet  so  full  of  purpose 
when  we  think  of  death. 

There  is  a  necessary  limit  to  our  achievement,  but  none  to  our 
attempt. 

And  like  faithful  watch-dog  guardians, 
Round  our  passions  stand  our  fears. 

Remember  we  are  builders,  not  architects,  of  history  and  life. 

The  mainspring  of  all  moral  life,  —  the  belief  that  there  is  in 
us  a  real  power  over  the  future  to  turn  a  false  to  a  true,  a  mean 
to  a  noble,  an  unholy  to  a  pure. 


JET.  21-22]     INWARD  DEVELOPMENT       259 

There  is  one  other  principle  underlying  any  seeming  lack 
of  method,  the  fragmentariness,  the  wide  discursive  reading, 
the  severe  studies  and  deeper  meditations  of  which  these  note- 
books of  Phillips  Brooks  are  the  evidence  or  the  expression. 
That  principle  is  the  value  of  the  human  soul.  It  is  this 
which  gives  unity  and  system  to  the  mass  of  quotations  and 
reflections.  He  heard  much  in  the  Virginia  seminary,  from 
teachers  and  students,  of  the  love  of  souls  as  the  motive  of 
the  Christian  ministry.  He  had  heard  it,  from  his  childhood, 
in  the  teaching  of  his  mother,  or  in  the  pulpit  of  St.  Paul's, 
where  Dr.  Vinton  proclaimed  it.  It  was  the  great  motto 
of  the  Evangelical  school.  Unconsciously  to  himself,  it  had 
become  the  motive  of  his  own  life.  But  he  followed  his  own 
method  in  achieving  that  motive  for  himself  as  a  conscious 
possession.  Before  the  human  soul  could  be  loved,  it  must 
be  known.  To  this  end  he  had  turned  to  literature  and  to 
history  as  constituting  together  the  biography  of  man.  He 
wandered  up  and  down  its  highways,  he  turned  into  its  by- 
paths ;  but  wherever  he  went,  from  great  writers  or  those  less 
known,  heathen  and  Christian,  ancient  and  modern,  he  never 
failed  to  extract  judgments  of  value,  unsuspected  revelations 
of  the  beauty,  the  dignity,  the  greatness,  the  worth,  of  the 
human  soul.  He  saw  also  the  dangers  with  which  the  soul 
of  man  was  surrounded,  the  sin,  the  evil,  the  curse,  and  the 
tragedy  of  life.  He  gathered  a  new  and  larger  conception  of 
what  the  salvation  of  such  a  soul  must  mean. 

But  to  know  thoroughly  the  human  soul,  he  must  enter  into 
all  its  great  experiences,  its  deep  convictions,  study  its  for- 
mulas, and  somehow  make  them  its  own.  He  did  not  under- 
take the  task  as  a  reformer,  sifting  experiences  and  choosing 
those  agreeable  to  his  mood.  To  sit  in  judgment  upon  the 
records  was  not  for  him,  but  rather,  assuming  that  all  was 
genuine,  to  enter  into  its  meaning.  The  experience  of  the 
race  was  to  be  his  experience.  His  object  is  to  penetrate  here 
and  there,  wherever  the  way  is  open,  into  the  secret  of  the  life 
of  man.  But  whether  he  always  understands  or  not,  whether 
he  can  appreciate  what  he  has  been  called  to  appropriate  as 
his  natural  heritage,  that  is  another  question.  He  is  willing 


26o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1857-58 

to  wait.  It  was  in  the  sequence  of  this  method  that  he  seems 
to  have  come  to  the  person  of  Christ  and  His  place  in  his- 
tory.  He  did  not  reach  it  first,  for  he  was  preoccupied  with 
a  natural  theology,  was  following  humanity  in  its  quest  for 
God,  or  was  laying  the  foundations  of  the  moral  and  spiritual 
life  in  the  instincts  of  the  soul  as  revealed  in  life  or  litera- 
ture. To  this  end  he  studied  not  so  much  himself  primarily, 
as  he  studied  man  in  order  to  the  knowledge  of  self.  As  he 
pursues  his  search,  he  comes  to  Christ  as  the  greatest  figure 
in  the  records  of  human  life.  It  begins  to  be  apparent  to  him 
that  all  life  centres  in  Christ,  and  finds  there  its  fullest  ex- 
pression. As  he  made  his  journeys  backward  and  forward 
from  home  to  the  seminary,  he  learned  to  recognize  the 
approach  to  a  great  city  by  the  convergence,  when  yet  miles 
away  from  it,  of  all  the  roads  as  to  some  natural  centre.  He 
applies  the  figure  to  the  relation  between  Christ  and  human- 
ity. This  figure  became  not  only  an  illustration,  but  an  argu- 
ment carrying  additional  weight  to  his  reason. 

I  take  my  Plato  and  sit  down  and  read,  and  think  how  true  is 
truth,  how  pure  is  purity,  how  great  and  deep  the  human  mind 
may  grow.  I  take  up  Homer,  and  the  years  are  singing  round  me, 
and  the  truths  of  Troy-time,  grown  truer  ever  since,  are  linking 
me  to  human  nature  and  divine.  I  read  La  Place,  and  Nature's 
riddle  grows  no  less  a  mystery,  but  more  a  thing  of  fellowship 
with  mind,  and  God  who  made  it.  ...  I  open  my  New  Testa- 
ment, and  native  purity  and  truth  melt  in  the  holiness  of  Jesus' 
life.  What  I  sought  is  found.  I  grow  the  safer  as  I  grow  wiser 
now.  Safety  and  wisdom  fade  away  in  love.  "I  am  the  resur- 
rection and  the  life." 

In  the  midst  of  our  Christian  experience  there  will  come  such 
transfiguration  time.  We  walk  with  Christ  and  see  the  miracles 
He  does,  live  in  His  constant  presence  that  surrounds  us  with 
His  constant  love;  but  we  see  Him  poor  and  despised,  He  is  not 
of  the  noble,  nor  His  cause  of  the  nobilities  of  the  world.  But 
some  day  he  taketh  His  disciples  apart  and  is  transfigured  before 
them.  On  some  hilltop  of  prayer,  where  it  is  good  to  be,  they  see 
his  own  heavenly  glory  come  down  to  clothe  their  Lord.  His 
countenance  grows  bright  with  everlasting  love,  His  raiment  is 
pure  and  white  in  the  eternal  truth;  Moses  and  Elias  come  to 
talk  with  Him,  the  deep  sympathy  of  law  and  gospel  is  made 


JET.  ai-aa]     INWARD  DEVELOPMENT       261 

plain  and  clear,  and  the  disciples  fall  upon  their  faces  and  worship 
the  Master  they  have  loved  so  well.  Henceforth  their  faith  is 
not  to  be  shaken.  They  know  whom  they  have  believed,  for  they 
have  seen  His  glory.  Such  blessed  seasons  come  to  us.  Whoever 
else  may  waver,  our  doubting  time  is  over.  The  memory  of  this 
labor  shall  be  with  us  as  we  look  on  Calvary.  We  have  heard 
the  voice  from  out  the  cloud  attest  Christ's  sonship  and  our  duty, 
—  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  hear  Him.  We  go  down  with  new 
trust  in  God,  new  faith  in  Jesus,  new  sympathy  with  heaven, 
new  hope  for  man,  to  begin  again  our  walk  of  quiet  daily  Chris- 
tian duty,  to  see  the  daily  miracle  and  feel  the  daily  blessing,  to 
strive  and  struggle  to  the  end,  to  keep  the  memory  of  that  trans- 
figuration we  have  seen  to  help  our  struggles  and  sustain  our 
hopes,  to  be  nearer  to  Jesus,  now  that  we  realize  how  near  He  is 
to  God. 

Still  after  each  denial  the  Lord  Jesus  turns  and  looks  upon  the 
recusant,  as  Jesus  looked  from  the  judgment  seat  upon  Peter. 
Still  we  go  out  in  bitterness,  as  he  went  out  and  wept.  All  we 
know  of  Jesus  cries  shame  on  our  betrayal ;  the  faith  that  has 
strengthened  us  upbraids  our  weakness.  The  skies  frown  down 
impatient  scorn  upon  our  cowardice;  the  whole  beauty  of  nature 
is  vexed  by  the  impurity  of  our  sin ;  the  whole  truth  of  the  uni- 
verse sees  in  our  shame-struck  faces  the  consciousness  of  our  base 
lie. 

The  old  blindness  of  the  Jewish  council  hall  is  on  us  still. 
"Art  thou  the  Son  of  God?  He  said  I  am."  And  then  they 
cried,  "  What  need  we  any  further  witness  ?  for  we  have  heard 
from  his  own  mouth  ?  "  We  can  stand  anything  but  that.  The 
patient  life  of  doing  good  may  bring  reproach,  the  preaching  in 
the  temple  may  stir  up  here  and  there  a  priest  and  scribe,  the 
miracle  by  the  highway  side  may  make  men  wonder  through  their 
scorn  and  scorn  the  more  for  wondering;  but  when  this  last  great 
Christ-voice  comes,  "I  am  the  Son  of  God,"  when  this  humanity, 
that  made  men  worship  in  spite  of  all  their  sneers,  stands  up  here 
in  its  crown  of  thorns  with  bleeding  face  and  meek  hands  folded 
over  the  mock  sceptre  of  their  derision,  and  claims  its  great  divin- 
ity —  then  the  wild  jury-mob's  forbearance  fails.  This  god-like 
claiming  to  be  God,  the  great  divine  asserting  his  divinity,  this 
heavenly  master  laying  hold  once  more  of  the  heaven  that  is  His 
eternally  —  Ay !  those  scribes  and  priests  and  elders,  they  were 
right.  What  need  of  further  witness  ?  for  we  ourselves  have 
heard  from  his  own  mouth. 

Then  comes  the  old  doubting  question,  Art  thou  greater  than 


PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [1857-58 

our  father  Abraham  ?  Down  to  the  standard  of  earth  greatness 
and  fame,  down  to  our  ancestral  prides  and  boastings,  down  to 
humanity's  pattern-lives  we  bring  divinity  for  judgment.  Our 
father  Abraham  is  dead,  can  this  new  teacher  live?  Can  the  God- 
head that  he  claims  be  greater  than  the  great  faith  and  truth  and 
virtue  of  our  father  ?  And  so  divinity  grows  weak  to  us,  as  it  did 
to  the  Jews.  We  lose  the  strength  and  great  convictions  of  it  by 
our  faithless  questions.  We  begin  to  call  the  new  pretension  that 
has  come  down  from  heaven  and  claims  a  being  and  a  power  be- 
fore and  high  above  our  human  idols,  —  we  call  it  blasphemy. 
We  scorn  it  from  our  temples  and  our  streets,  we  lead  it  to  the 
Calvary  of  denial  and  rebuke. 

We  long  to  see  the  holy  land  and  walk  where  Jesus  walked. 
Oh,  is  there  not  a  holy  land  of  duty  all  around  us  ?  May  we  not 
daily  tread  the  same  paths  of  holiness  and  sorrow,  joy  and  love, 
that  Christ  has  trodden,  and  see  His  footprints  on  them  still? 
Yes,  there  are  Bethanys  and  Capernaums  and  Calvarys  for  us  to 
visit  every  day.  God  grant  us  grace  to  bring  away  with  us  the 
lessons  that  they  teach. 

"Our  fathers  did  eat  manna  and  are  dead."  To  every  heart's 
experience  comes  its  time  of  desert  journeyings.  There  comes  to 
feed  its  hopes  and  faiths  the  daily  gift  from  heaven;  its  fields  lie 
white  with  blessing  every  morning,  it  gathers  strength  from  the 
nourishment  God  gives  it,  but  it  wins  no  immortality.  It  eats 
its  manna  in  the  wilderness,  and  the  years  pass  by  and  it  dies. 
But  new  and  better  years  come  on,  and  they  bring  the  new  bless- 
ing with  them,  from  heaven  too,  but  with  more  of  heaven's  wealth 
of  life.  The  Christ  is  sent.  "I  am  the  bread  that  came  down 
from  heaven.  If  any  man  eat  of  this  bread  he  shall  live  forever. " 
We  look  back  now  and  see  how  the  manna  came  from  God,  and  yet 
our  fathers  died.  We  come  more  heartily  to  feast  of  this  new 
bread  of  immortality.  God  bless  it  to  our  souls. 

Until  we  come  to  a  cordial  feeling  that  every  new  discovery  we 
make  of  a  new  attribute,  a  new  grace,  a  new  glory  anywhere  in 
God's  nature,  gives  room  for  new  joy  and  exultation  in  us  who  as 
his  children  have  been  called  to  share  that  nature,  until  with  this 
feeling  in  our  hearts  we  go  daily  to  new  study  of  the  life  of  God, 
go  to  it  for  our  daily  joy  and  exultation,  hoping,  believing  that 
we  shall  find  them  there,  until  we  thus  claim  our  heritage,  we  are 
not  heirs ;  until  we  cry  Our  Father,  and  feel  our  filial  trust,  the 
blessing  of  God's  gracious  fatherhood  is  never  ours. 

That  he  was  looking  forward  to  his  future  work  as  a  preacher, 


JET.  21-22]     INWARD  DEVELOPMENT       263 

while  still  engaged  in  his  preparation  for  the  ministry,  may 
be  inferred  from  the  homiletic  form  into  which  many  of  his 
thoughts  were  cast.  No  sooner  did  he  receive  a  thought 
than  he  occupied  himself  with  the  form  it  must  take.  The 
thought  and  its  fitting  expression  are  never  divorced.  It  is 
interesting  to  note  also  the  passages  of  Scripture  running  in 
his  mind,  which  he  wrote  down  as  texts  for  future  sermons. 
That  they  stood  for  vital  trains  of  thought  is  evident  from 
the  circumstance  that  sermons  were  ultimately  written  upon 
them  all. 

Thy  people  shall  be  willing  in  the  day  of  thy  power.  (Ps.  ex. 
3.)  Willingness  the  first  Christian  step. 

As  thou  hast  sent  me  into  the  world,  even  so  have  I  sent  them 
into  the  world.  (John  vii.  18.)  A  comparison  of  the  Christian's 
mission  with  a  part  of  Christ's. 

Have  I  been  so  long  time  with  you,  and  yet  hast  thou  not  known 
me,  Phillip  ?  (John  xiv.  9.) 

And  many  that  believed  came  and  showed  their  deeds.  (Acts 
xix.  18.) 

Faith  which  worketh  by  love.      (Gal.  v.  6.) 

Lord,  I  believe,  help  thou  mine  unbelief.      (Mark  ix.  24.) 

For  he  endured,  as  seeing  him  who  is  invisible.     (Heb.  xi.  27.) 

For  their  rock  is  not  as  our  rock,  even  our  enemies  themselves 
being  the  judges.  (Deut.  xxxii.  31.) 

Who  is  he  among  you  that  feareth  the  Lord,  that  obeyeth  the 
voice  of  his  servant,  that  walketh  in  darkness  and  hath  no  light  ? 
(Is.  1.  10.) 

For  the  earnest  expectation  of  the  creature  waiteth  for  the 
manifestation  of  the  sons  of  God.  (Rom.  viii.  9.) 

For  our  God  is  a  consuming  fire.      (Heb.  xii.  29.) 

Ought  not  Christ  to  have  suffered  these  things  and  to  enter 
into  his  glory?  (Luke  xxiv.  26.) 

Shall  a  man  make  gods  unto  himself  ?  and  they  are  no  gods. 
(Jer.  xvi.  20.) 

Holiness,  without  which  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord.  (Heb. 
xii.  14.) 

Whosoever  is  least  in  the  kingdom  of  God  is  greater  than  he. 
(Luke  vii.  28.) 

If  any  man  be  in  Christ  he  is  a  new  creation.     (2  Cor.  v.  17.) 

For  I  was  alive  without  the  law  once,  but  when  the  command- 
ment came,  sin  revived,  and  I  died.  (Rom.  xvii.  9.  Sophocles, 
CEdipus  Coloneus,  393.) 


264  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1857-58 

Thus  saith  the  Lord,  If  it  be  marvellous  in  the  eyes  of  the 
remnant  of  this  people,  shall  it  also  be  marvellous  in  mine  eyes? 
(Zech.  viii.  6.) 

They  said  unto  him,  Master,  where  dwellest  thou?  He  said 
onto  them,  Come  and  see.  (John  i.  38.) 

O  that  I  knew  where  I  might  find  him,  that  I  might  come 
even  to  his  seat.  (Job  xxiii.  2.) 

And  if  any  man  say  unto  you,  Why  do  ye  this  ?  ye  shall  say, 
The  Lord  hath  need  of  him.  (Mark  xi.  3.) 

For  this  corruptible  must  put  on  incorruption,  and  this  mortal 
must  put  on  immortality.  (1  Cor.  xv.  53.) 

Ye  worship  ye  know  not  what:  we  know  what  we  worship. 
(John  iv.  22.) 

Walk  while  ye  have  the  light,  lest  darkness  come  upon  you. 
(John  xii.  35.) 

Out  of  weakness  were  made  strong.      (Heb.  xi.  34.) 

In  that  day  shall  be  opened  a  fountain  for  sin  and  for  unclean- 
ness.  (Zech.  xiii.  1.) 

Be  ye  holy,  for  I  am  holy.     (1  Pet.  i.  16.) 


It  would  have  been  unpardonable  to  have  detained  the 
reader  so  long  by  this  effort  to  present  Phillips  Brooks,  at 
the  age  of  twenty -two,  in  his  intellectual  and  spiritual  develop- 
ment were  it  not  justified  by  the  necessity  of  knowing  the 
man  as  he  was  in  himself.  Throughout  that  wonderful 
career,  during  which  for  thirty  years  and  more  he  exerted 
an  almost  unexampled  spell  over  thousands  and  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  his  fellow  men,  it  was  felt  that  he  had  some 
secret  of  power  which  he  did  not  or  could  not  impart.  That 
secret  is  here  revealed,  so  far  as  the  eternal  mystery  of  human 
things  will  allow,  in  this  story  of  what  must  be  called  his 
conversion.  It  is  a  conversion  so  deep,  so  thorough,  as  to 
find  its  precedents  only  in  the  conversion  of  an  Augustine  or 
a  Luther.  Like  those  great  forerunners  he  had  been  brought 
up  in  the  Christian  faith,  but  when  he  came  to  years  of 
maturity,  it  was  evident  that  this  antecedent  process,  valuable 
and  indispensable,  had  only  led  him  to  the  brink  of  a  gulf 
which  must  be  bridged  by  supernatural  power.  In  any  con- 
version there  is  something  which  can  never  be  told,  which 
surpasses  human  power  fully  to  conceive  or  describe.  Augus- 


JET.  21-22]     INWARD  DEVELOPMENT       265 

tine  could  never  make  clear  to  himself  or  his  readers  exactly 
how  the  issue  was  accomplished.  At  some  critical  moment 
he  had  heard  in  the  garden  the  voice  of  a  child,  saying,  Take 
and  read,  "Tolle  et  lege."  The  world  is  never  tired  of 
studying  the  strange  experience  of  Luther  in  the  monastery, 
when  from  the  dread  of  the  justice  of  God  he  passed  to  an 
assurance  of  the  love  of  God.  The  conversion  of  Phillips 
Brooks  resembles  these  conversions  in  another  respect,  while 
yet  it  differs  from  them  as  the  nineteenth  century  differs  from 
the  fourth  century  or  the  sixteenth.  In  the  souls  of  great 
men,  the  issues  of  the  age  in  which  they  live  come  to  their 
focus.  The  conflict  within  the  soul  of  Augustine  was  no 
other  than  the  conflict  between  the  heathen  and  the  Christian 
world,  when  on  the  one  side  was  presented  the  wealth  of 
heathen  culture,  heathen  aims,  and  heathen  aspirations;  and 
on  the  other  the  grace  of  God  that  is  given  but  never  de- 
served. Augustine  sanctioned  the  abandonment  of  a  cul- 
ture that  could  no  longer  redeem  from  sin,  acquiescing  in  the 
condemnation  and  banishment  of  that  attractive  earlier  world. 
In  the  case  of  Luther,  the  spirit  of  medievalism  was  at 
war  with  the  rising  tide  of  individual  freedom,  which  meant 
emancipation  from  the  house  of  spiritual  bondage  into  the 
glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God.  With  Phillips 
Brooks  the  emergency  was  no  less  sharply  distinguished.  A 
new  world  had  been  revealed  to  him,  of  which  Augustine  and 
Luther  did  not  dream.  He  was  reading,  as  in  an  open  book, 
the  new  revelation  in  the  world  of  outward  nature,  as  it  had 
been  exploited  by  the  labors  of  science  or  by  the  insight  of 
great  poets.  The  conception  of  humanity  anticipated  by 
Herder  and  Rousseau,  now  become  a  recognized  reality,  had 
been  unfolded  in  its  deeper  significance,  in  its  details  and  as 
a  whole,  and  laid  before  him,  by  the  researches  of  many  stu- 
dents, as  never  hitherto  in  any  age.  And  again,  the  great 
body  of  modern  literature,  that  had  been  produced  with  such 
marvellous  fertility,  a  consequence  indeed  of  the  Protestant 
Reformation,  still  waited  for  its  adjustment  with  Christian 
faith.  In  these  directions  he  could  not  wander  without  mak- 
ing the  effort  to  bring  them  into  unity,  to  reconcile  them  with 


266  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1857-58 

faith  in  God  and  obedience  to  the  divine  will.  In  a  word, 
the  product  of  the  centuries  since  the  Reformation,  in  which 
must  be  included  the  opening  up  of  the  history  of  humanity 
and  the  bringing  together  of  dissevered  worlds,  was  handed 
to  him  with  the  injunction  to  make  it  all  subservient  to  some 
higher  unifying  truth.  He  loved  it  all;  it  was  no  question 
any  longer  of  abandonment,  but  of  reconciliation  and  appro- 
priation in  some  deeper  way. 

In  this  process  he  struggled,  haunted  by  doubts  and  nega- 
tions, by  disintegrating  influences,  whether  bred  by  science 
or  by  literature,  —  the  substitution  of  impersonal  law  for 
a  righteous  intelligent  will,  the  worship  of  humanity  in 
the  place  of  Christ,  the  fatalism  in  literature  which  was 
paralyzing  moral  effort  and  inducing  moral  degeneracy.  To 
be  true  to  himself,  to  renounce  nothing  which  he  knew  to  be 
good,  and  yet  bring  all  things  captive  to  the  obedience  of 
God,  was  the  problem  before  him.  He  hesitated  long  before 
he  could  believe  that  such  a  solution  was  possible.  His 
heart  was  with  this  rich,  attractive  world  of  human  life,  in  all 
the  multiplicity  and  wealth  of  its  illustrations,  until  it  was 
revealed  to  him  that  it  assumed  a  richer  but  a  holier  aspect 
when  seen  in  the  light  of  God.  But  to  this  end,  he  must 
submit  his  will  to  the  divine  will  in  the  spirit  of  absolute 
obedience.  Here  the  struggle  was  deep  and  prolonged.  It 
was  a  moral  struggle  mainly,  not  primarily  intellectual  or 
emotional.  He  feared  that  he  should  lose  something  in 
sacrificing  his  own  will  to  God's  will.  How  the  gulf  was 
bridged  he  could  not  tell.  He  wrote  down  as  one  of  the 
first  of  the  texts  on  which  he  should  preach,  "Thy  people 
shall  be  willing  in  the  day  of  thy  power,"  with  the  comment 
that  "willingness  is  the  first  Christian  step."  Thus  the  con- 
version of  Phillips  Brooks  becomes  the  representative  process 
of  the  nineteenth  century.  So  far  as  the  age  has  been  great, 
through  science  or  through  literature,  its  greatness  passed 
into  his  soul.  The  weakness  of  his  age,  its  sentimentalism, 
its  fatalism,  he  overcame  in  himself  when  he  made  the  abso- 
lute surrender  of  his  will  to  God,  in  accordance  with  the 
example  of  Christ:  "Lo,  I  come  to  do  thy  will,  O  God."  All 


JET.  21-22]     INWARD  DEVELOPMENT       267 

that  he  had  hitherto  loved  and  cherished  as  the  highest,  in- 
stead of  being  lost  was  given  back  to  him  in  fuller  measure. 
To  the  higher  standard  he  had  now  raised  there  rallied  great 
convictions  and  blessed  experiences,  the  sense  of  the  unity 
of  life,  the  harmony  of  the  whole  creation,  the  conscious- 
ness of  pure  joy  in  being  alive,  the  conviction  that  heaven 
is  the  goal  of  earth.  He  was  submitting  himself  in  the  spirit 
of  a  childlike  docility  to  receive  every  lesson  which  the 
divine  Instructor  of  humanity  would  impart.  To  use  again 
the  familiar  metaphor,  he  was  like  a  lyre  played  upon  in 
quick  responsiveness  by  the  spiritual  forces  in  the  universe, 
whether  in  nature  or  in  the  history  of  man,  anxious  to  miss 
no  chord  of  the  heavenly  harmony.  Out  of  this  process  was 
born  the  preacher,  who  in  turn  was  to  play  upon  humanity 
as  a  lyre,  evoking  from  it  the  same  response  which  his  own 
soul  had  rendered  back  to  the  choir  of  the  immortals.  Be- 
neath the  indescribably  rich  contents  of  his  mind  and  heart, 
there  was  a  deeper  simplicity.  There  was  but  one  rule  to 
follow,  he  must  be  the  man  that  he  ought  to  be,  and  was 
made  to  be,  to  do  always  the  thing  that  he  ought  to  do,  and 
then  labor  to  bring  the  world  which  he  loved  to  his  own 
standards. 


CHAPTER 

1858-1859 

LAST  TEAB  IN  THE  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY.  HE  BECOMES 
A  TEACHER  IN  THE  PREPARATORY  DEPARTMENT.  HIS 
FIRST  SERMON.  ORDINATION.  CALL  TO  THE  CHURCH  OF 
THE  ADVENT  IN  PHILADELPHIA 

As  Phillips  Brooks  was  about  to  leave  Virginia  for  the 
long  summer  vacation,  he  admits  that  the  second  year  in  the 
seminary  has  been  a  happy  one.  He  was  filled  with  joy  at 
the  thought  of  going  home,  and  sends  word  to  his  mother  to 
be  on  the  doorsteps  to  meet  him. 

Jane  27,  1858. 

DEAREST  WILLIAM,  —  ...  It  is  getting  so  warm  here  (a 
perpetual  ninety  degrees  in  the  shade)  that  I  really  feel  as  if  I 
ought  not  to  stay  here  longer  than  is  absolutely  necessary.  .  .  . 
It  is  pleasant  to  think  of  only  four  more  days  here.  I  shall  en- 
joy of  all  things  a  day  or  two  with  you  by  the  shore  of  the  "much 
resounding  sea "  [Newport].  .  .  .  Let  me  warn  you  that  you 
must  expect  to  see  a  very  shabby  representative  of  our  name  next 
Saturday  night.  My  exhausted  wardrobe  is  not  adapted  to  the 
exigencies  of  a  gay  watering  place,  so  you  need  not  own  me  when 
I  come  if  you  object.  ...  I  have  enjoyed  the  year  here  much 
better  than  the  last,  have  seen  a  good  many  pleasant  people,  like 
Virginians  and  hate  Virginia  more  than  ever.  Shall  be  right 
glad,  I  tell  you,  to  see  Chauncy  Street  again.  .  .  .  Next  Monday 
or  Tuesday  tell  Mother  to  be  out  on  the  steps  at  Number  41. 
Your  affectionate  brother,  PHILL. 

The  summer  of  1858  was  for  the  most  part  spent  at  home 
in  the  familiar  way,  the  family  gathering  in  the  evenings 
about  the  table  in  the  back  parlor.  Phillips  devoted  much 
of  his  time  to  his  younger  brothers,  who  were  now  looking  up 
to  him  as  an  example,  wondering  at  the  new  life  upon  which 
he  was  soon  to  enter.  He  went  with  them  often  to  the  me- 
nagerie, and  enjoyed  it  probably  more  than  any  of  them. 


MT.  22-23]      THE  FIRST   SERMON  269 

With  Frederick,  who  was  to  enter  Harvard  College  in  the 
fall,  he  took  up  again  his  college  text-books;  he  was  not  yet 
entirely  weaned  from  that  early  preference  for  teaching  which 
had  led  him  to  devote  his  energies  to  the  Latin  and  Greek 
classics  while  in  college.  His  note-books  also  attest  his 
continued  interest  in  classical  studies,  filled  as  they  are  with 
quotations  from  Latin  and  Greek  authors. 

One  letter  has  been  preserved,  where  he  gives  an  account 
of  his  vacation.  It  is  a  characteristic  letter,  reticent  about 
things  which  are  uppermost  in  his  consciousness,  represent- 
ing himself  as  having  passed  his  summer  in  idleness.  The 
letter  is  written  to  his  friend  George  Strong :  — 

Saturday  morning,  August  28, 1858. 

DEAR  GEORGE,  — ...  I  have  been  passing  a  quiet  vacation. 
About  half  the  time  in  Boston  and  half  in  the  country.  We 
have  had  a  perpetual  east  wind  ever  since  I  got  home,  and  it 
has  n't  dared  to  be  hot  for  half  an  hour  since  last  June.  Now 
and  then  I  take  a  great  coat  and  shawl  and  spend  a  day  or  two  at 
Nahant,  just  to  see  what  Dr.  Kane's  life  up  among  the  walruses 
was  like.  Meanwhile  I  have  prospered  bodily,  having  abandoned 
all  thoughts  of  mental  culture  till  I  get  back  to  the  literary  atmo- 
sphere of  the  seminary.  I  have  adopted  from  twenty  to  twenty- 
five  pounds  that  was  n't  mine  when  I  got  home.  At  present  t  'm 
not  quite  easy  under  it.  It  is  n't  fully  naturalized  yet,  but  I  am 
gradually  taming  it  into  a  useful  part  of  the  body  politic.  .  .  . 
I  had  a  letter  from  Paddock  last  week.  He  is  well,  not  doing 
much,  enjoying  himself,  and  has  got  a  sermon  written.  How  is 
yours  ?  Will  you  take  my  turn  and  preach  the  first  Wednesday 
after  we  get  back  ?  On  my  part  pen  has  not  touched  paper  on 
more  serious  duty  than  this  note  to  you  since  I  left  the  South. 
My  first  text  is  waiting  for  me  somewhere,  I  've  no  doubt.  Mean- 
while I  'm  waiting  for  an  impulse.  I  heard  also  the  other  day 
from  Dr.  Sparrow.  He  wrote  to  enclose  me  an  advertisement  for 
insertion  in  the  "Christian  Witness."  He  says  "the  prospects  for 
next  year  are  excellent,  never  better."  What  a  broad  margin 
that  leaves !  The  preparatory  department  there  has  had  an  en- 
dowment, and  they  mean  to  enlarge  it.  But  it  is  like  committing 
suicide  with  six  weeks'  provisions  still  on  hand  to  be  talking  of 
the  seminary  now.  Let  it  drop.  I  am  annoyed  at  your  reading 
three  volumes  of  Motley !  Why,  that  is  more  than  one  a  month.  I 
wish  Boston  coolness  had  something  of  the  energy  of  Cincinnati 


270  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1858-59 

heat.  My  book  work  has  been  very  scattered.  I  got  through 
Livingstone's  Africa,  but  could  n't  find  it  the  fascinating  book 
it  has  been  called.  I  have  just  finished  a  book  that  has  held  me 
very  close  ever  since  I  began  it,  that  is  Lewes's  "Life  of  Goethe." 
I  had  always  rather  shrunk  from  it,  till  I  took  it  up  quite  by  acci- 
dent, and  liked  it  so  much  I  found,  or  made,  time  to  put  it  right 
through.  Have  you  ever  read  it?  Have  you  read  the  new 
"Atlantic  "  ?  "The  Autocrat "  we  think  is  capital.  The  book- 
stores  here  are  in  fine  trim  and  full  of  temptations,  but  I  have  to 
go  through  them  with  the  idea  that  they  are  somebody's  library, 
and  it 's  no  use  for  me  to  think  of  owning  any  of  their  trea- 
sures. .  .  . 

The  allusion  to  his  having  read  Lewes's  "Life  of  Goethe," 
and  read  it  with  interest,  which  is  all  that  he  vouchsafes  to 
say  concerning  it  when  he  writes  to  his  friend,  is  far  from 
expressing  all  that  it  meant  to  him.  He  must  have  paused 
at  every  step  in  the  story  of  Goethe's  development,  gaining 
light  upon  the  path  he  himself  was  treading.  From  the  "  Life 
of  Goethe  "  he  turned  to  his  books,  appropriating  from  him 
whatever  could  affiliate  with  his  own  ideal.  He  wrote  down 
the  things  which  Goethe  had  said  as  no  one  else  could  say 
them,  —  the  final  expressions  he  had  given  to  the  thoughts  of 
men.  He  studied  the  process  by  which  Goethe  was  made, 
catching  from  him  the  secret  of  a  true  culture.  Because 
there  was  in  himself  the  making  of  a  hero,  he  recognized  a 
hero  when  he  saw  him;  for  "heroic  eyes  are  always  proud  to 
recognize  heroic  proportions."  Something  of  the  inspiration 
which  Goethe  left  with  him  is  visible  in  these  extracts :  — 

It  is  never  well  to  put  ungenerous  constructions  when  others, 
equally  plausible  and  more  honorable,  are  ready ;  and  we  shall  do 
well  here  to  follow  the  advice  of  a  thoughtful  and  kindly  writer, 
to  employ  our  imagination  in  the  service  of  charity. 

Our  strength  is  measured  by  our  plastic  power.  .  .  .  Bricks 
and  mortar  are  mortar  and  bricks  until  the  architect  can  make 
them  something  else. 

Make  me  feel  what  I  have  not  yet  felt,  make  me  think  what  I 
have  not  yet  thought,  then  I  will  praise  you.  But  shrieks  and 
noise  will  not  supply  the  place  of  pathos. 

Art,  says  Lewes,  enshrines  the  great  sadness  of  the  world,  but 


JET.  22-23]      THE  FIRST  SERMON  271 

ia  not  itself  sad.  .  .   .  Goethe  could  not  write  "  Wertber  "  before 
he  had  outlived  Wertherism. 

Au jour (11  HI i  riiomme  ddsire  iramensdment  mais  il  veut  faible- 
ment. 

The  shout  of  freedom  rouses  them  to  revolt ;  no  sooner  are  they 
free  than  the  cry  is  "  Whom  shall  we  obey  ?  " 

The  roll  of  drums  has  this  merit  at  all  events,  that  it  draws 
men  from  their  library  table  to  the  window,  and  so  makes  them 
look  out  upon  the  moving,  living  world  of  action,  wherein  the 
erudite  may  see  a  considerable  sensation  made  even  by  men  unable 
to  conjugate  a  Greek  verb  in  Greek  letters. 

Das  Muss  ist  hart,  aber  beim  Muss  kann  der  Mensch  allein  zeigen 
wie  's  inwendig  mit  ihm  steht.  Willktlrlich  leben  kann  jeder. 

Ein  unnutz  Leben  ist  ein  fruher  Tod. 

I  have  a  purer  delight  than  ever  when  I  have  written  something 
which  well  expresses  what  I  meant. 

The  happiest  thing  is  that  I  can  now  say  I  am  on  the  right 
path,  and  from  this  time  forward  nothing  will  be  lost. 

Es  bildet  ein  Talent  sich  in  der  Stille, 
Sich  ein  Charakter  in  dem  Strom  der  Welt. 

The  student  of  history  knows  how  discoveries  are,  properly 
speaking,  made  by  the  age  and  not  by  men. 

Wie  das  Gestirn 
Ohne  Hast 
Aber  ohne  Rast, 
Drehe  sich  jeder 
Urn  die  eigne  Last. 

The  difference  between  knowing  the  mountain  gorges  by  the 
map  and  book,  and  knowing  them  from  having  been  lost  among 
them,  and  having  wandered  fearfully  among  them  with  death 
staring  down  at  you  from  every  peak. 

He  notes  the  homage  which  Goethe  pays  to  Christianity  ] 
when  writing  to  Eckermann,  and  how  Schiller,  writing  to ' 
Goethe,  confirms  this  tribute :  — 

Let  mental  culture  go  on  advancing,  let  science  go  on  gaining 
in  depth  and  breadth,  and  the  human  intellect  expand  as  it  may, 
it  will  never  go  beyond  the  elevation  and  moral  grandeur  of  Chris- 
tianity as  it  shines  forth  in  the  Gospels. 


PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1858-59 

I  find  in  the  Christian  religion  virtually  the  foundation  of  the 
highest  and  noblest ;  and  the  various  manifestations  of  the  same 
in  life  appear  to  me  only  therefore  so  repugnant  and  insipid, 
because  they  are  failed  representations  of  the  highest.  (Extract 
from  letter  of  Schiller  to  Goethe.) 

There  was  much  in  common  between  Goethe  and  Phillips 
Brooks,  but  the  contrast  is  also  striking.  Like  Goethe,  he 
shunned  the  study  of  philosophy,  with  its  critical  analysis  of 
abstract  ideas,  preferring  to  draw  his  own  conclusion  from 
things  in  the  concrete,  from  the  world  of  life  and  of  human 
history.  He  was  like  him  in  feeling  the  fascination  of 
Greek  literature  and  art.  But  he  differed  in  having  come 
under  the  influence  of  Philo,  who,  in  that  plastic  moment 
when  the  Jewish  mind  first  experienced  the  influence  of  Greek 
thought,  had  gained  the  higher  spiritual  vision  which  after- 
wards inspired  the  early  Alexandrian  fathers,  and  ultimated 
in  the  conquest  of  the  intellectual  world  of  the  early  centuries 
by  the  Christian  faith.  The  similarity  goes  further :  in  the 
perfect  symmetry  of  the  human  body,  the  beautiful  face  upon 
which  men  were  never  tired  of  gazing;  and  again  in  this, 
that,  like  the  great  German,  he  was  soon  to  rise  like  a  star  in 
the  heavens,  to  be  followed  to  the  end  of  his  life  with  what 
almost  seemed  like  adoration,  to  stand  upon  an  exalted  pin- 
nacle without  losing  his  balance  till  God  should  remove  him. 
What  he  admired  in  Goethe  finds  expression  in  the  sonnet 
which  he  wrote  at  this  moment,  a  parallel  in  his  own  character 
and  history :  — 

Two  days  with  Goethe!     How  the  great  wise  man 
Ripened  with  slow  strength  from  the  glorious  boy! 
Each  new  experience  of  grief  or  joy 

Lending  its  life  to  vivify  the  plan. 

That  earnest  search  of  Nature  and  her  truth, 
That  generous  sympathy  with  human  kind, 
That  kingly  friendship  with  a  kindred  mind, 

That  age  aglow  with  all  the  fire  of  youth! 

Once  in  long  ages  God  sends  such  a  soul, 

The  Homers,  Shakespeares,  Goethes  of  the  world, 

To  stand  for  Earth's  great  landmarks,  while  seas  roll, 
And  thunders  war,  and  heaven's  high  bolts  are  hurled, 


MT.  22-23]       THE  FIRST   SERMON  273 

Men  learn  their  greatness  with  the  gradual  years, 
Seeing  them  dimly  through  the  Earth's  faithless  fears. 

But  while  he  was  writing  the  sonnet  he  entrusts  to  his  note- 
book the  proof  of  divergence  from  Goethe :  — 

"We  know  that  we  exist,"  says  Goethe,  "when  we  recognize 
ourselves  in  others."  Nay,  we  do  not  fairly  know  of  our  existence 
till  we  recognize  ourselves  in  God.  Gradually  as  we  study  the 
divine  nature,  there  comes  out  from  it  impulse  after  impulse  that 
enters  into  our  own  hearts  and  finds  some  impulses  akin  to  itself 
doing  the  blind  work  there.  Gradually  we  catch  some  glimpse 
within  ourselves  of  God's  image  in  humanity.  .  .  .  We  leave 
the  pagan  theology  that  makes  God  but  a  great  man,  and  rever- 
ently study  the  divine  to  learn  of  it  what  truth  and  beauty  God 
has  planted  in  the  human. 

And  again,  in  close  conjunction  with  his  extracts  from 
Goethe  he  gave  a  place  to  the  words  from  St.  Bernard :  — 

It  is  the  glory  of  a  single  life  to  live  the  life  of  an  angel,  while 
occupying  the  body  as  of  a  beast. 

On  the  1st  of  October  he  returned  to  Virginia.  The  last 
year  in  a  theological  seminary  is  apt  to  be  a  disturbed  and 
broken  one,  in  consequence  of  the  vision  of  possible  parishes 
and  of  calls  to  churches,  the  writing  of  sermons,  —  the  per- 
turbation which  comes  from  the  close  approach  to  the  reality. 
It  was  so  in  this  case.  For  some  reason,  which  is  not  given, 
he  had  made  up  his  mind  not  to  return  after  his  ordination 
to  Boston,  or  Massachusetts.  He  had  probably  discussed  the 
question  with  his  father,  who  writes  to  him,  as  if  he  under- 
stood his  feeling :  "I  do  not  wonder  you  avoid  Massachusetts." 
One  may  surmise  that  he  had  not  yet  got  over  the  sense 
of  failure  and  mortification  about  the  Latin  School,  or  that 
he  thought  he  should  make  a  better  start  where  it  was  not 
remembered  against  him.  But  there  may  have  been  other 
reasons.  It  was  certainly  wiser  that  he  should  begin  his 
ministry  away  from  home.  The  question  now  arose  as  to 
his  transfer  as  a  candidate  for  orders  to  some  other  diocese ; 
it  was  also  necessary  that  he  should  get  permission  from  the 
Bishop  of  Massachusetts  to  be  ordained  in  Virginia  with  his 


274  PHILLIPS  BROOKS         [1858-59 

classmates,  even  if  he  were  not  transferred.  Upon  this  he 
had  set  his  heart.  These  questions,  and  others  similar  to 
them,  are  recurring  in  the  home  correspondence  throughout 
the  year.  The  problem  how  to  approach  the  bishop  so  as 
to  win  his  consent  was  turned  over  in  the  letters  that  passed 
between  him  and  his  father. 

An  event  occurred  soon  after  his  return  to  Virginia  which 
may  seem  of  slight  importance,  but  was  in  reality  of  deep 
significance.  He  was  invited  by  the  faculty  of  the  theological 
seminary  to  take  charge  of  the  new  preparatory  department, 
where  students  were  to  be  trained  for  admission  to  the  study 
of  theology.  It  was  constantly  happening  that  men  were 
presenting  themselves  as  candidates  for  the  ministry  whose 
classical  training  was  deficient,  who  had  not  been  to  college, 
or  who  were  advanced  in  years  and  felt  the  need  of  some  pre- 
paratory work  before  entering  the  seminary.  The  prepar- 
atory department  was  not  intended  as  a  short  cut  to  the 
ministry,  but  was  in  danger  of  becoming  such.  When  that 
result  was  manifest  in  later  years,  the  experiment  was  aban- 
doned. It  was  then  a  signal  mark  of  confidence  and  esteem, 
a  recognition  of  his  scholarship  and  of  his  character,  when 
Phillips  Brooks  was  asked  to  take  charge  of  so  important  a 
work.  That  he  felt  it  to  be  so,  and  in  this  feeling  had  the 
sympathy  of  his  parents,  is  seen  in  the  following  extracts 

from  his  correspondence :  — 

October  5,  1858. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  ...  I  have  just  come  from  Dr.  Sparrow's 
study,  who  has  been  proposing  that  I  shall  take  charge  of  the  pre- 
paratory school,  if  they  do  not  determine  to  settle  on  a  man  who 
is  here,  now  applying  to  be  permanent  teacher.  And  the  Dr. 
told  me  he  had  no  idea  they  would  take  him.  So  I  think  I  may 
be  pretty  sure  of  the  place,  and  shall  probably  be  at  it  within  a 
week.  He  did  not  speak  definitely  as  to  the  salary,  but  assured 
me  it  should  be  made  satisfactory.  Something  unexpected  may 
turn  up,  but  if  everything  works  right  I  shall  be  pretty  well  pro- 
vided for  this  year.  I  will  write  you  as  soon  as  it  is  settled. 
.  .  .  Dr.  Sparrow  intimated  that  his  hint  to  me  in  vacation 
about  the  school,  which  was  all  he  felt  at  liberty  to  give,  was 
intended  to  start  me  off  at  once  to  Virginia.  Great  love  to  all. 
Write  often  to  Your  Affectionate  Son,  PHILLIPS. 


/ET.  22-23]       THE  FIRST  SERMON  275 

Saturday  morning,  October  9,  1858. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  have  time  for  only  a  word  to-day  to  tell 
you  about  "the  school."  I  have  made  an  engagement  to  teach 
Latin  and  Greek  two  or  three  hours  per  diem,  and  shall  begin  on 
Monday.  I  am  to  have  $300  and  hoard,  equal  to  $400  in  all. 
Not  very  large  pay,  but  all  they  can  afford  to  pay,  and  as  much, 
I  suppose,  as  I  had  any  right  to  expect.  At  any  rate  it  will  be 
enough  to  cover  my  expenses  through  this  year.  Dr.  Sparrow 
told  me  that  if  after  ordination  I  would  stay  here  a  year  or  two 
he  would  promise  me  a  very  handsome  salary.  You  don't  catch 
me  doing  that,  though.  One  year  more  of  the  South  will  be 
enough  for  me.  Mother's  letter  came  last  night.  Much  love  to 
all  at  home.  Everything  goes  on  well.  I  am  at  my  first  sermon. 
Very  truly  Your  affectionate  son, 

PHILLIPS. 

These  letters  brought  back  from  his  father  and  mother 
warm  congratulations.  To  justify  himself  in  their  sight  as 
one  on  whom  their  labor  had  not  been  wasted  was  no  slight 
thing  in  his  eyes.  This  first  incident  in  his  career  of  triumph 
is  indeed  so  slight  compared  with  what  is  to  follow  that  it 
may  seem  unnecessary  to  mention  it.  But  to  him  it  meant 
much  in  many  ways.  It  was  the  highest  honor  which  the 
seminary  could  bestow.  It  meant  success  in  that  very  line 
wherein  he  had  seemed  to  fail  when  he  made  his  first  experi- 
ment in  teaching.  It  gave  him  confidence.  It  reversed  the 
sentence  of  Master  Gardner  of  the  Latin  School.  This 
time  he  did  not  fail.  The  testimony  of  those  who  had  the 
privilege  of  knowing  him  as  a  teacher  bears  witness  to  his 
singular  success  as  a  teacher,  his  power  of  gaining  his  pupils' 
confidence  and  love,  his  helpfulness  in  creating  interest  in 
their  work.  Whether  it  was  wise  for  him,  however,  to  have 
taken  this  additional  work  may  be  doubted.  It  interfered 
with  his  reading  to  some  extent,  and  the  year  was  not  so 
rich  in  results  as  the  previous  year  had  been.  These  are 
some  of  his  references  to  his  work  as  a  teacher :  — 

This  playing  scholar  and  teacher  at  the  same  time  does  n't  give 
much  time  for  letter-writing.  I  have  been  at  it  for  a  week  now. 
I  have  a  class  of  about  thirteen,  who  are  preparing  for  the  semi- 
nary. At  present  they  are  all  laboring  through  the  Greek  and 


276  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1858-59 

Latin  grammars,  and  some  of  them  are  reading  Virgil.  It  takes 
two  or  three  hours  a  day,  and  when  we  get  thoroughly  going,  will 
probably  require  more.  So  you  see  putting  this  and  our  regular 
seminary  work  together,  it  makes  a  pretty  busy  day  for  me.  Be- 
sides  this,  I  have  been  at  work  on  my  first  sermon,  and  it  comes 
pretty  hard. 

October  16, 1858. 

The  "class"  comes  on  finely.  .  .  .  They  are  in  Sallust  and 
the  Greek  Reader,  which  I  think  is  doing  pretty  well  for  men 
that  never  touched  the  languages  before.  I  have  got  one  of  them 
ready  and  got  him  into  the  seminary  this  week. 

February  3,  1859. 

I  could  not  but  be  struck  to-day  in  our  Virgil  class  with  the 
contrast  of  the  heaven  of  the  ./Eneid  with  the  heaven  of  the  Re- 
velation. "  Solemque  suum,  sua  sidera  movunt , "  says  the  poet 
(yEiu-icl,  vi.  641).  "And  the  city  hath  no  need  of  the  sun,  neither 
of  the  moon,  to  shine  in  it;  for  the  glory  of  the  Lord  did  lighten 
it  and  the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof  "  (Rev.  xxi.  23).  So  speaks 
the  Evangelist  of  what  he  saw  on  the  Lord's  Day  in  Patmos. 
Once  get  the  Bible  idea  of  Deity  and  we  feel  that  it  needs  some- 
thing more  than  a  new  earth  to  make  a  heaven. 

There  are  other  circumstances  connected  with  this  moment 
in  his  life  which  mark  it  as  important.  He  was  now  passing 
into  his  own  independent  career,  and  no  longer  need  look  to  his 
father  for  his  maintenance.  We  have  seen  that  it  was  hard 
for  him  to  call  upon  his  father  for  money,  and  how  the  father 
and  mother  were  distressed  that  such  should  be  the  feeling. 
Most  gladly  was  the  money  always  sent,  nor  was  it  any  incon- 
venience or  hard  limitation  upon  his  father's  resources.  But 
the  time  none  the  less  had  come  when  he  should  be  independ- 
ent, and  he  knew  it.  The  home  correspondence  shows  that 
the  moment  had  arrived  which  in  some  families,  especially 
his  own,  created  a  strain  upon  both  sides,  as  the  inevitable 
approached.  For  himself  he  still  continued  to  call  upon  his 
parents  for  advice  when  he  was  his  own  best  adviser.  He 
was  now  twenty-two,  within  a  few  months  of  his  twenty-third 
birthday.  To  the  parents  he  was  still  a  boy,  to  be  watched 
over  and  guarded  from  harm,  whether  of  soul  or  body. 
Slowly  did  they  relinquish  the  sense  of  responsibility.  Hid 


AT.  22-23]      THE  FIRST   SERMON  277 

mother  was  the  first  to  yield,  though  her  solicitude  for  his 
welfare  never  ceased.  But  habit  had  a  stronger  hold  upon 
the  father.  He  writes  to  him  that  he  is  willing  he  should  act 
for  himself  in  the  matter  of  deciding  upon  the  invitation  to 
take  charge  of  the  preparatory  school.  In  other  ways  the 
father  clung  to  the  old  relationship  of  masterful  authority, 
handed  down  in  Puritan  households.  Years  afterwards,  he 
entered  it  into  his  journal  that  he  had  not  been  consulted 
about  an  important  event  in  the  life  of  his  son,  and  did  not 
know  what  his  decision  would  be. 

The  mother  of  Phillips  Brooks  was  also  passing  through  a 
trial  of  her  own,  in  consequence  of  his  reserve  in  speaking  of 
that  which  lay  nearest  to  her  heart.  Her  loving  letters  to 
him  met  with  no  response.  Those  letters  display  such  an 
intensity  and  depth  and  wealth  of  love  that  they  cannot  even 
now  be  read  without  emotion.  One  is  apt  to  take  such  love 
for  granted,  like  the  divine  love  which  all  receive  but  few 
acknowledge.  It  can  truly  be  said  of  Phillips  Brooks  that 
no  lack  of  appreciation  or  affection  for  his  mother  caused  this 
seeming  neglect.  But  it  was  impossible  for  him  then  to 
answer  such  letters  as  his  mother  wrote.  To  the  love  which 
poured  itself  forth  as  a  mighty  river,  he  was  far  from  indif- 
ferent, but  it  begot  in  him  a  mood  of  which  silence  was  the 
only  expression.  Neither  then  nor  at  any  later  time  in  his 
life  did  he  ever  give  himself  freely  to  any  one.  He  did  not 
speak  of  himself,  except  very  rarely,  in  the  note-books  which 
were  intended  for  his  eye  alone.  What  he  gave,  he  gave  in 
impersonal  ways.  He  could  act  and  do,  leaving  others  to 
interpret  him  from  his  deeds,  but  about  his  inner  life  or  his 
religious  experience  he  was  dumb.  Yet  it  was  with  this  life 
of  the  feelings  that  his  mother  dealt  almost  exclusively  in  her 
letters.  He  was  like  her  in  that  he  had  the  same  great  lov- 
ing soul,  boundless  in  its  capacity  for  affection,  whose  outlet 
was  at  last  to  be  found  in  preaching.  But  he  could  not 
respond  in  a  letter. 

The  father's  letters  were  those  of  a  man  of  affairs,  con- 
versant with  the  world,  in  one  way  more  interesting  than  the 
mother's,  because  they  were  rich  with  the  interest  of  actual 


278  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1858-59 

life.  They  could  be  answered  by  the  son  without  committing 
himself  to  any  utterance  regarding  his  inner  life.  \Vhen  a 
young  man  is  entering  upon  life,  the  father  naturally  steps 
forward  as  his  guide,  with  practical  suggestion,  while  the 
mother  recedes  for  a  moment  into  the  background.  But  this 
moment  passes  away,  and  the  mother  resumes  her  ascendency. 
It  seems  to  have  been  so  in  the  case  of  Phillips  Brooks. 

At  last  he  broke  his  reserve,  the  accumulated  silence  of  a 
year,  in  this  letter  to  his  brother :  — 

Saturday  evening,  November  6,  1858. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  Somehow  I  feel  a  little  like  writing  to  you 
to-night.  That  Kilby  Street  corner  promise  stands  up  before  me, 
and  makes  me  shudder  that  I  have  n't  kept  it  more  before.  Here 
I  am  one  month  into  my  last  year  of  study  (make  up  your  mind 
that  this  letter  is  going  to  be  all  about  myself,  and  forgive  it 
accordingly).  Somehow  the  work  I  am  at  begins  to  look  very 
different  and  strange  to  me.  Do  you  know  I  feel  as  I  never  felt 
before,  to  find  myself  here  within  eight  months  of  the  ministry? 
Whether  it  is  this  getting  at  sermon-writing  that  makes  me  feel 
more  than  ever  how  weak  I  am  to  go  about  the  world's  greatest 
work,  I  certainly  do  feel  it  fearfully  to-night.  But  yet  I  tell 
you,  Bill,  I  can't  recall  many  pleasanter  hours  than  those  that  I 
have  spent  in  writing  my  two  or  three  first  poor  sermons.  It 
seems  like  getting  fairly  hold  of  the  plough,  and  doing  some- 
thing at  last.  I  always  have  been  afraid  of  making  religion  pro- 
fessional, and  turning  it  into  mere  stock  in  trade  when  I  approached 
the  work,  but  I  have  never  felt  more  deeply  how  pure  and  holy 
and  glorious  a  thing  our  Christianity  is,  what  a  manly  thing  it 
is  to  be  godly,  till  I  sat  down  to  think  how  I  could  best  convince 
other  men  of  its  purity  and  holiness.  I  do  enjoy  the  work,  and 
with  all  my  unfitness  for  it,  look  forward  to  a  happy  life  in  trying 
to  do  it.  Somehow  I  have  never  been  quite  frank  with  you ;  as 
much  with  you  as  anybody,  but  not  thoroughly  with  any  one,  I 
think.  But  I  am  beginning  to  own  up  more  fairly  to  myself. 
Every  day  it  seems  as  if  the  thing  I  have  got  to  do  stood  up 
plainer  before  me  and  forced  me  into  frankness.  My  ideas  of  a 
minister  are  a  different  thing  from  what  they  were  two  years  ago, 
poor  and  unworthy  enough  yet,  but  I  think  growing  purer  and 
more  worthy.  It  seems  to  me  every  day  more  and  more  as  if 
it  were  treason  to  his  work  for  him  to  neglect  any  part  of  his 
whole  nature  that  is  given  to  that  work,  and  so  I  think  the  broadest 
mental  outline,  and  the  deepest  moral  truth,  and  the  purest  spiritual 


JET.  22-23]     THE  FIRST   SERMON  279 

faith  are  more  and  more  the  demands,  one  and  all  of  which  Christ 
makes  of  his  workmen,  growing  to  perfect  men  and  so  to  perfect 
Christians,  to  the  measure  of  the  stature  of  the  fulness  of  Christ. 
I  have  just  been  writing  a  sermon  on  that  subject,  the  "Manliness 
of  Faith." 

I  have  undertaken  this  year  to  preach  plain  sermons  to  a  small 
congregation  of  from  fifty  to  seventy-five  people  at  one  of  the 
stations  near  the  seminary,  and  feel  that  I  am  better  for  the 
work,  more  and  deeper  in  sympathy  with  simple,  honest  men,  and 
a  clearer  light  into  what  common  men's  minds  are  doing,  and 
how  they  may  be  taught  to  do  better  and  nobler  things. 

How  are  you  coming  on  ?  I  wish  I  could  see  you  all  for  this 
evening.  I  don't  know  what  has  set  me  off  into  this  letter  to- 
night. I  happened  to  feel  like  it,  that 's  all.  Excuse  it  if  you 
don't  like  it,  and  forget  it.  Don't  quite  forget,  though,  that  there 
is  such  a  creature  as  P.  B.  getting  ready  for  work  off  here  in 
the  woods.  Only  eight  months  more,  and  I  shall  be  at  it.  I 
hope  these  months  have  magic  in  them  to  get  me  ready.  Excuse 
the  "I-ness  "  of  this  letter  from  your  affectionate  brother, 

PHILL. 

This  letter,  read  to  the  family,  was  answered  by  the  father, 
who  also  takes  the  occasion  to  refer  to  the  circumstance 
of  his  having  written  his  first  sermon,  and  to  ask  that  it  may 
be  sent  to  him  for  his  perusal. 

BOSTON,  Saturday  afternoon,  November  13, 1858. 

MY  DEAR  SON,  —  ...  I  want  to  acknowledge  to  you  my 
satisfaction  and  pleasure  for  that  letter  received  this  week  from 
you  to  William.  It  was  so  exactly  what  I  have  been  wanting  to 
hear  from  you  so  long,  it  breathed  the  spirit  which  I  have  so  long 
wished  and  prayed  for  in  you,  and  I  am  confident  you  will  here- 
after feel  happier  in  your  own  mind.  Do  go  on,  my  very  dear 
son,  and  cultivate  that  feeling,  prayerfully  and  strongly.  I  am 
pleased,  too,  that  you  find  your  situation  at  the  seminary  pleasanter 
and  more  to  your  satisfaction.  ...  I  would  not  be  so  selfish  as 
to  lead  you  to  think  that  I  am  expressing  only  my  own  feelings ; 
by  no  means ;  we  all  rejoiced  at  it,  and  your  mother  was  exceed- 
ingly gratified.  It  was  a  family  letter,  and  only  considered  as 
such.  Do  write  so  often,  my  dear  son,  and  express  your  feelings 
freely.  You  cannot  imagine  how  it  would  gladden  your  parents' 
hearts.  Did  you  ever  think  of  my  request  for  the  MS.  of  the 
first  sermon?  I  will  not  urge  it  if  you  have  objections,  but  I 
should  like  to  see  it,  and  if  you  wish  it,  it  shall  be  sacredly  kept ' 


28o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1858-59 

private.  If  you  knew  how  much  and  how  often  you  are  in  our 
thoughts  and  our  prayers,  you  would  feel  a  stronger  bond  of  sym- 
pathy with  home.  Not  that  I  think  you  are  deficient  in  that 
feeling,  but  it  would  be  stronger. 

In  response  to  this  request,  the  first  sermon  was  sent  to  his 
father,  and  soon  after  the  following  letter.  It  is  character- 
istic that  he  should  have  written  u private"  above  the  text, 
where  it  still  appears,  legible  though  faded.  Other  allusions 
in  the  letter  are  to  Dr.  Vinton's  resignation  of  St.  Paul's 
Church,  Boston,  an  event  which  greatly  moved  the  Brooks 
family,  as  it  did  also  the  whole  congregation. 

November  16,  1858. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  Did  you  get  the  sermon  I  sent  you  ?  I  sent 
it  because  you  asked  for  it,  not  because  I  thought  it  worth  your 
reading.  Will  you  tell  me  how  it  struck  you  ?  How  it  would  have 
struck  you  had  you  heard  a  strange  young  man,  of  six  feet  four, 
preach  it  in  your  own  pulpit,  what  you  would  have  said  about  it 
when  you  first  got  home  ?  Be  indulgent  with  it,  it  is  my  first, 
and  my  others  have  been  very  different. 

My  dear  Father,  I  must  come  to  you  for  money.  I  have  been 
running  up  a  few  little  bills  and  find  I  cannot  get  along  till  the 
1st  of  January,  when  my  little  salary  falls  due.  .  .  .  Can  you 
let  me  have  say  $15  or  so,  for  washerwomen  and  wood-sawyers,  and 
some  of  that  tribe.  The  school  comes  on  well,  takes  a  good  deal 
of  time,  but  is  not  unpleasant  work.  I  have  hung  Dr.  Vint  on. 
tell  William,  and  he  looks  well.  I  feel  more  and  more  obliged 
to  William  for  his  present  every  day.  How  is  he  now  ? 

I  had  a  letter  the  other  day  from  Dr.  Richards,  and  he  acknow- 
ledged your  kindness  in  sending  him  Dr.  Yin  ton's  farewell.  He 
is  doing  well,  and  likes  Great  Barrington.  Dr.  Sparrow,  too, 
desires  me  to  thank  you  for  the  copy  you  sent  him.  I  am  very 
glad  you  sent  it.  Glad  you  have  got  Bancroft.  Write  me  how 
you  like  him.  Dr.  8.  (between  you  and  me)  has  hinted  a  wish 
that  I  might  stay  here  next  year  and  take  charge  of  the  Prepara- 
tories, and  be  assistant  in  the  chapel.  I  have  also  a  sort  of 
glimpse  of  a  parish  in  Philadelphia.  This  is  all  between  us.  No 
knowing  what  either  will  come  to. 

I  am  writing  sermons  still,  and  enjoy  it,  although  it  is  a  very 
different  thing  from  what  it  will  be  when  I  have  a  people  to 
preach  to.  I  look  forward  to  that  time  with  impatience,  though 
with  fear.  Please  return  my  sermon  when  it  is  convenient ;  no 
hurry.  I  shall  never  preach  it  again  just  as  it  is,  but  may  use 


.  22-23]     THE  FIRST  SERMON  281 

parts  of  it.  Love  to  all.  I  thought  much  of  you  yesterday 
keeping  Thanksgiving.  Why  doesn't  George  write?  Good- 
night. Your  affectionate  son, 

PHILLIPS. 

Words  of  commendation  about  sermons,  especially  from 
near  friends  and  relations,  are  not  easy  to  estimate.  But 
enthusiastic  admiration  it  is  difficult  to  conceal,  and  its  tone 
cannot  be  mistaken.  The  first  sermon  did  not  elicit  any 
enthusiasm  from  his  father  or  his  mother.  One  might  say 
of  it,  as  the  expression  goes,  that  it  was  "well  received  " 
or  "gave  good  satisfaction."  The  father  writes  to  him:  — 

BOSTON,  November  29, 1858. 

MY  DEAR  SON,  — ...  The  same  mail  brought  me  the  MS. 
sermon,  for  which  I  am  much  obliged,  and  have  been  much  gratified 
and  pleased  with  reading.  It  is  very  good  and  sound,  and  Mother 
likes  it  because  it  is  so  "much  gospel."  .  .  .  The  sermon,  I 
noticed,  you  marked  private,  and  I  promised  to  consider  it  so,  and 
have  done  it,  reading  it  only  to  Mother  and  aunt  Susan.  As  you 
did  not  mention  it  in  your  letter  to  William,  I  did  not  show  it  to 
him.  None  of  them  recognized  the  direction  on  the  envelope. 
Presuming  you  would  wish  it  returned,  I  shall  do  so  by  this  mail, 
and  again  thank  you  for  sending  it  to  me. 

His  mother  had  hoped  to  have  chosen  the  text  for  his  first 
sermon,  but  she  acquiesced  in  his  decision  to  choose  for  him- 
self. She  writes  him  with  reference  to  it :  — 

BOSTON,  Saturday  evening,  November  20, 1858. 

MY  PRECIOUS  PHILLIPS,  —  More  precious  than  ever.  I  have 
delayed  writing  to  you,  for  I  have  hardly  known  how  to  tell  you 
how  happy  I  feel  since  the  receipt  of  some  of  your  last  letters.  I 
thank  you  for  writing  so  freely,  and  what  beautiful  texts  you  have 
chosen ;  they  breathe  all  of  Christ.  You  know  I  wanted  to  choose 
your  first  text,  but  I  am  satisfied.  The  simplicity  which  is  in 
Christ,  —  how  beautiful !  I  know  you  have  preached  pure,  simple 
gospel,  and  that  is  enough  for  me.  I  have  lived  to  see  my  prayer 
granted,  that  my  child  might  preach  Christ.  I  am  happy.  .  .  . 
We  are  all  feeling  deeply  interested  in  you  and  praying  for  you, 
my  dear  child,  at  home  as  you  are  nearing  your  work.  And  your 
younger  brothers,  Phillips,  seem  to  think  and  feel  a  great  deal 
about  you.  They  are  watching  you,  and  I  thank  you  for  the 
example  you  are  setting  before  them.  You  know  you  have  great 


282  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1858-59 

influence  over  them.  .  .  .  My  heart  is  with  you  much,  very 
much,  this  winter,  particularly  evenings  when  I  know  you  are 
writing  your  sermons.  It  must  be  a  delightful  work  to  feel  your- 
self pleading  for  Christ.  May  you  be  strong  and  fearless  for 
Him.  .  .  . 

And  now,  my  dearest  Philly,  I  must  say  good-night.  How  I 
wish  I  could  look  upon  your  face  to-night !  God  keep  you  and 
bless  you,  and  continue  to  make  you  a  blessing  to  the  world  and 
to  your  devoted  and  happy  MOTHER. 

And  now  it  is  time  to  turn  to  this  first  sermon.  When  he 
wrote  it,  he  had  gained  the  leading  principles  whose  exposi- 
tion was  to  form  the  work  of  his  life.  He  was  ready  and 
anxious  to  speak.  His  first  utterance  gives  us  the  man.  The 
text  was  2  Corinthians  xi.  3,  — "The  simplicity  that  is  in 
Christ."  ]  Simplicity  was  the  ideal  of  his  college  life,  so  that 
he  was  keeping  the  natural  unity  of  his  days  when  he  chose 
it  for  his  first  sermon.  But  between  the  college  essay  which 
advocated  simplicity  and  the  last  year  in  the  seminary  there 
had  been  a  vast  development.  As  a  sermon,  when  looked  at 
from  the  point  of  view  of  a  congregation,  it  could  hardly  be 
called  a  success.  It  is  doubtful,  for  example,  whether  his 
father  when  he  read  it  quite  saw  his  drift  or  purpose.  He 
himself  said  of  it  freely  in  later  life  that  it  was  defective  in 
two  ways,  —  "  it  was  lacking  in  simplicity,  and  had  nothing 
in  it  of  Christ:"  — 

I  well  remember  the  first  sermon  that  I  ever  achieved.  The 
text  was  from  2  Corinthians  xi.  3,  "The  simplicity  that  is  in 
Christ,"  and  a  cruel  classmate's  criticism  of  it  was  that  "there 
was  very  little  simplicity  in  the  sermon  and  no  Christ."  I  am 
afraid  that  he  was  right,  and  I  am  sure  that  the  sermon  never 
was  preached  again.  Its  lack  of  simplicity  and  lack  of  Christ  no 
doubt  belonged  together.  It  was  probably  an  attempt  to  define 
doctrine  instead  of  to  show  a  man,  a  God,  a  Saviour.8 

1  It  is  a  small  point,  bnt  it  is  worth  mentioning,  that  the  size  of  the  sermon 
paper  upon  which  he  fixed  for  his  first  sermon  was  8  inches  by  6J.  From  this 
he  never  varied  in  after  life.  He  became  accustomed  to  think  upon  paper  of 
this  size,  and  had  his  note-books  made  to  order  of  the  same  size.  His  sermons 
were  written  from  the  first  currente  calamo,  and  contain  few  or  no  erasures. 
He  preserved  throughout  an  even  handwriting  with  no  traces  of  haste,  despite 
the  rapidity  and  the  intensity  of  his  mental  movements. 

*  "  On  the  Pulpit  and  Popular  Skepticism,"  in  Euayt  and  Addratet,  p.  74. 


AT.  22-23]     THE  FIRST  SERMON  283 

The  sermon  has  what  is  apt  to  be  the  defect  of  every  first 
sermon,  it  is  overloaded  with  material,  and  undertakes  to  say 
too  much.  But  that  was  inevitable;  he  was  making  his  mani- 
festo and  could  afford  to  omit  nothing.  He  had  told  his  father 
that  he  should  not  preach  it  again,  and  there  is  no  evidence 
that  he  did.  But  he  also  said  that  he  might  use  certain 
parts  of  it,  and  this  he  did,  making  the  first  half  of  it  his 
graduating  thesis.  In  this  form  it  has  been  published,  the 
first  essay  in  the  volume  called  "Essays  and  Addresses," 
issued  after  his  death,  with  this  title,  "The  Centralizing 
Power  of  the  Gospel."  As  it  stands  as  an  essay  in  this 
volume  it  is  word  for  word  the  first  half  of  his  first  sermon. 

The  audience  who  listened  to  it  in  the  chapel  of  the  Vir- 
ginia seminary,  his  teachers  and  his  fellow  students,  must 
have  had  sensations  difficult  to  describe.  The  text  was  a 
familiar  one,  and  the  idea  it  contained  had  formed  the  staple 
of  many  exhortations  in  prayer  meetings  or  in  Sunday  ser- 
vices. Indeed,  it  was  the  burden  of  the  Evangelical  teach- 
ing of  the  day.  For  that  reason  he  must  have  chosen  it.  He 
had  always  a  way  of  taking  those  texts  which  parties  or 
schools  regarded  as  their  strongholds  in  Scripture,  giving 
them  a  new  meaning,  and  a  larger  interpretation  which  all 
men  could  receive.  But  in  order  to  estimate  his  peculiar 
treatment  of  an  over-familiar  passage,  we  must  revert  for  a 
moment  to  the  religious  situation  of  the  hour.  In  the  decade 
of  the  fifties,  there  was  in  America  but  little  theological 
activity,  no  free  inquiry  in  theology,  outside  of  certain  circles 
in  New  England ;  and  no  attempt  to  defend  by  intellectual 
processes  the  conviction  upon  which  the  Evangelical  faith  was 
resting.  Indeed,  there  had  grown  up  a  certain  mistrust  of 
the  intellect,  as  though  its  existence  were  rather  a  dangerous 
thing  to  the  simplicity  of  Christian  faith.  The  teachers  in 
the  Virginia  seminary  impressed  upon  the  students  the  im- 
portance of  subordinating  the  intellect  to  faith.  The  favorite 
text  upon  which  they  relied  as  their  sanction  for  their  coun- 
sels was  one  where  St.  Paul  urges  his  hearers  "to  bring 
every  thought  into  captivity  to  the  obedience  of  Christ." 
This  was  interpreted  as  meaning  the  sacrifice  of  the  intellect. 


284  PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [1858-59 

It  was  customary  to  speak  much  and  often  on  the  pride  of 
the  intellect  as  the  greatest  foe  to  faith.  To  preach  Christ 
was  to  renounce  intellectualism,  ideas,  theories,  and  specula- 
tions. 

It  was  further  characteristic  of  the  decade  of  the  fifties, 
and  of  the  succeeding  years,  that  within  the  church  the  test 
applied  to  intellectual  suggestion  or  criticism  was  not  whether 
it  was  true,  but  whether  it  was  safe.  Criticism  was  beginning 
to  disturb  the  minds  of  many  in  regard  to  the  nature  of 
inspiration ;  whether  it  extended  to  the  words  or  only  to  the 
thought.  Was  there  a  difference  between  inspiration  and 
revelation?  What  was  the  nature  and  extent  of  the  atone- 
ment, and  was  it  a  vicarious  sacrifice?  There  was  a  general 
feeling  that  safety  lay  in  avoiding  the  discussion  of  these  and 
other  questions.  A  sense  of  fear  was  the  prevailing  mood  in 
strict  theological  circles,  lest  young  men  should  accept  princi- 
ples endangering  the  safety  of  the  creeds.  Young  men  were 
accustomed  to  listen  in  those  days  to  eloquent  monologues  of 
the  elders,  brought  to  perfection  by  frequent  repetition,  in 
which  it  was  demonstrated  how  unsafe  it  was  to  make  any 
departure  from  accepted  opinions  in  theology.  One  step 
downward  involved  another,  until  the  Christian  faith  would 
entirely  disappear.  Such,  it  was  pointed  out,  had  been  the 
experience  in  New  England.  Such  would  be  the  result  of 
following  German  guides.  Salvation,  it  was  assumed,  de- 
pended upon  holding  "sound  views."  Phillips  Brooks  was 
accustomed  to  these  expressions  of  anxiety  at  Alexandria, 
and  also  at  home.  His  father  and  mother  feared  that  he 
might  be  led  astray  by  the  glittering  light  of  false  opinions. 

But  there  were  some  notable  exceptions  among  the  leaders 
of  the  Evangelical  school.  Dr.  Sparrow,  the  teacher  of 
theology  in  the  Virginia  seminary,  was  one  of  these.  He 
was  absolutely  without  fear  as  he  contemplated  the  situation, 
willing  to  meet  boldly  every  skeptical  objection,  tracing  it  to 
its  origin,  seeking  to  weigh  its  force,  and  ready  to  admit  the 
truth  even  under  hostile  disguises.  The  only  thing  that  Dr. 
Sparrow  feared  was  Romanism  and  Romanizing  tendencies  in 
the  church.  These  constituted  a  real  danger,  and  to  his 


JET.  22-23]     THE  FIRST   SERMON  285 

mind  the  only  danger,  and  this  because  the  Romanizing  ten- 
dencies could  not  be  dealt  with  }  y  reason.  They  were  in- 
stincts or  dreams,  which  avoided  the  appeal  to  reason  and 
were  not  amenable  to  its  laws.  It  was  a  foe  in  the  dark, 
insidious,  pleasing  to  the  natural  man,  and  beguiling  unstable 
souls.  When  he  was  once  told  that  some  people  called  him 
one-sided,  because  he  fought  only  in  one  direction,  seeing  the 
danger  from  Romanism,  but  not  the  danger  from  skepticism, 
he  replied  with  a  fine  scorn  that  he  was  surprised  that  any 
intelligent  man  should  think  otherwise.  Skepticism  was  a 
rope  of  sand,  but  Romanism  was  an  evil  that  dissolved  the 
fibres  of  a  manly  spirit.  With  Dr.  Sparrow,  Phillips  Brooks 
was  becoming  intimate  in  his  Senior  year  at  the  seminary. 
Many  were  the  evenings  spent  in  his  study,  when  the  subject 
of  conversation  was  theology.  He  knew  how  to  understand 
and  to  sympathize  with  the  thoughts  germinating  in  the  mind 
of  his  pupil.  Again,  Dr.  Sparrow  was  a  strong  advocate 
of  the  freedom  of  the  will,  while  most  of  his  contemporaries 
held  the  Calvinistic  or  Augustinian  tenet,  that  the  will  was 
powerless  to  initiate  or  to  contribute  to  conversion.  These 
differences  in  Dr.  Sparrow's  attitude  were  prophetic  of 
changes  in  the  Evangelical  party  of  the  Episcopal  Church. 
Those  who  feared  skepticism  drew  nearer  to  the  High  Church 
party,  and  at  moments  became  its  allies.  Those  who  were 
afraid  of  Romanism  welcomed  the  advent  of  the  open  mind 
and  of  free  inquiry  in  theology. 

Such  is  a  very  brief  outline  of  the  situation  when  Phillips 
Brooks  came  to  his  first  sermon.  Into  that  sermon  he  man- 
aged to  import  the  convictions  which  for  years  had  been 
gathering  headway  in  his  soul.  His  utterance  is  constructive 
and  positive;  negations  are  absorbed  in  large  affirmations. 
He  shows  no  sign  of  having  reacted  against  the  familiar 
Evangelical  teaching,  but  has  rather  appropriated  and  en- 
larged its  central  truth.  As  we  read,  we  must  bear  in  mind 
that  the  feeling  of  the  hour  when  he  was  speaking  has  greatly 
changed  in  the  lapse  of  a  generation,  and  that  to  this  change 
he  himself  has  contributed  in  most  powerful  measure.  The 
first  clear  note  which  he  strikes  is  the  deep  conviction  that 


286  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1858-59 

all  roads  lead  to  Christ,  all  the  great  positive  valuable  lines 
of  human  activity.  It  is  very  striking  to  find  the  affirmation 
of  this  truth  in  the  first  sentence  of  his  first  sermon,  for  it 
is  the  key  to  his  theology  and  to  his  life.  Nor  had  he 
reached  it  without  a  struggle.  It  was  the  summary  of  his 
own  experience,  and  of  his  efforts  to  adjust  in  harmony  the 
conflicting  impulses  in  his  own  being.  He  had  not  seen  it 
when  he  was  in  college.  He  had  feared  that  if  he  became  a 
Christian  or  a  Christian  minister,  it  meant  the  sacrifice  of 
the  rich  and  ennobling  influences  of  literature,  the  with- 
drawal from  the  large  human  directions  of  the  intellect  and 
the  imagination.  When  he  left  home  to  begin  his  study  for 
the  ministry,  it  was  with  the  words  of  some  friend  or  class- 
mate ringing  in  his  ears,  that  Christianity  meant  the  lessen- 
ing of  a  man,  the  narrowing  of  the  range  of  human  interests. 
He  may  have  seen  something  of  this  in  those  whom  he  knew, 
and  have  feared  it  in  himself.  He  had  determined  to  know 
for  himself  whether  it  was  true.  It  had  burst  upon  him  as 
by  divine  revelation,  that  all  life  was  a  unity,  and  that  Christ 
was  the  glory  and  perfection  of  humanity.  All  truth,  all 
reality,  in  whatever  sphere  manifested,  in  literature,  art,  or 
science,  all  the  positive  acquisitions  of  man  in  the  long  range 
of  history,  all  great  events  and  movements,  had  their  affilia- 
tion with  Christ.  As  he  was  making  his  journey  on  the  rail- 
road from  Boston  to  New  York,  from  New  York  to  Phila- 
delphia, Baltimore,  and  Washington,  and  was  watching  for 
the  approach  to  great  cities,  he  saw  the  sign  in  the  central- 
ization of  life,  how  the  roads  converged  toward  the  invisible 
centre.  He  grasped  it  as  an  illustration,  an  analogy,  an  ar- 
gument. It  went  into  his  note-book,  and  was  worked  over  in 
different  forms  and  finally  reappeared  in  his  first  sermon. 

His  subject  was  Christ  as  the  centralizing  power  in  the 
spiritual  life.  The  plan  of  his  sermon  required  him  to  show 
that  this  central  force  involved  all  the  activity  of  the  human 
soul,  the  intellect,  the  affections,  and  the  will.  But  to  deal 
with  this  threefold  division  adequately  in  one  short  sermon 
was  beyond  his  power.  When  he  changed  his  sermon  to  an 
essay,  it  dealt  mainly  with  the  intellectual  powers  in  their 


JET.  22-23]      THE   FIRST   SERMON  287 

relation  to  the  salvation  of  the  soul.  He  gave  his  assent  to 
the  doctrine  so  often  reiterated  by  his  teachers  that  the  dan- 
ger to  religion  from  the  human  intellect  was  grave  and 
momentous,  but  hardly  had  he  done  so,  when  he  diverged 
from  the  beaten  pathway  of  a  safe  timidity,  which  argued  that 
it  was  necessary  to  suppress  or  sacrifice  the  intellect  in  order 
to  faith,  and  boldly  asserted  the  need  and  the  possibility  of 
consecrating  the  intellect  to  Christ.  His  words  are  so  char- 
acteristic that  he  must  speak  for  himself :  — 

The  Intellect,  coming  up  to  say,  "Lord,  teach  me."  There 
is  no  truth  from  which  even  man's  theoretical  adherence  hangs 
aloof  as  it  does  from  this  of  the  necessary  submission  of  the  whole 
intellectual  manhood  to  the  obedience  of  Christ.  God's  plan  has 
all  the  wonderful  simplicity  that  makes  His  natural  world  so 
grand.  In  the  centre  of  our  life  stands  the  grand  Christ-truth 
He  has  set  up,  the  single  fountain  out  of  which  all  sin  and  all  un- 
cleanness  are  to  drink  for  healing.  Every  step  that  is  not  towards 
the  fountain  is  towards  the  desert.  Our  work  here,  as  every- 
where, is  with  the  tendencies  of  things.  Let  us  understand  this 
matter.  God  has  ordained  this  world  and  another,  and  this  world 
is  a  striving  after  that.  Only  one  door  stands  open  to  connect 
the  two:  "I  am  the  Way,  the  Truth,  the  Life."  Now  if  God 
seriously  meant  man  might  reach  that  Way  and  Truth,  He  gave 
him  no  faculty  that  might  not  struggle  for  it.  There  is  no  sine- 
cure in  the  soul's  economy.  Every  power  has  its  work  to  do, 
every  capacity  its  gift  to  fill  it,  every  motive  its  wheels  to  turn 
or  shaft  to  drive  in  achieving  finally  the  soul's  great  work :  and  so 
the  fullest  manhood  of  man's  best  development  is  sanctified  by 
God's  purpose  of  man's  salvation.  But  when  one  coward  faculty 
breaks  off  from  the  hard  struggle,  ignores  the  Christhood  that 
says,  "By  Me  if  any  man  enter  in,  he  shall  be  saved,"  begins 
to  play  with  a  theory  instead  of  living  by  a  truth,  forthwith  the 
"simplicity  that  is  in  Christ "  is  marred  and  mangled  by  the 
multiplicity  that  is  in  man. 

God's  ban  lies  upon  no  fair  exercise  of  the  faculties  of  labor  if 
they  be  but  exercised  as  He  directs.  His  whole  omnipotence  is 
pledged  to  make  every  Christian  effort  of  those  faculties  effectual 
and  strong.  All  heaven  is  working  for  us  if  we  will,  as  the  little 
child  digs  his  well  in  the  seashore  sand  and  then  the  great  ocean 
comes  up  and  fills  it  for  him.  And  here  lies  all  solved  before  us 
the  problem  of  profane  and  sacred  study.  Looking  to  this  divine 
simplicity  of  the  scheme  of  life,  to  Christ  that  saves,  to  God  that 


288  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1858-59 

blesses,  no  study  is  profane.  Looking  away  from  that  central 
truth  of  Christ,  there  is  no  profaner  work  than  Bible  study.  So 
long  as  the  intellect  owns  allegiance,  so  long  its  work  is  full  of 
piety  and  purpose,  its  whole  development  is  a  training  of  the 
soul  that  is  an  heir  of  glory,  against  its  coronation  day.  Books 
become  sacraments,  schools  are  temples,  and  the  mental  life  grows 
holy  because  its  triumphs  are  sacrifices  to  the  everlasting  truth  of 
Christ.  If  this  be  so,  then  how  it  brands  the  atheism  that  would 
substitute  the  frivolity  of  culture  or  the  pedantry  of  ethics  for 
this  divinity  of  truth,  that  would  go  back  from  a  gospel  to  a  law, 
from  a  law  to  an  instinct,  from  an  instinct  to  a  dream,  disowning 
its  birthright  claim  to  the  higher  Christian  portion. 

What  he  says  upon  the  will  and  the  heart,  as  alike  with 
the  intellect  bringing  their  allegiance  to  Christ,  is  equally 
emphatic  and  is  drawn  from  his  own  experience.  In  his  case, 
it  had  been  the  submission  of  the  will  and  of  the  heart  that 
had  overcome  the  dreary  sense  of  the  fragmentariness  of 
life:  — 

See  how  the  new  faith  is  the  resurrection  of  the  life,  how  the 
new  purpose  that  concentrates  every  power  in  the  work  of  Christ 
binds  the  whole  human  nature  closer  to  the  Truth  and  closer  to 
its  race.  It  binds  it  closer  to  the  Truth.  Theories  and  schemes 
and  ceremonies  grow  tame  and  dead  to  the  man  who  has  looked 
the  gospel  in  the  face.  What!  with  this  new  gravitation  that 
I  feel  drawing  me,  and  drawing  all  creation,  to  the  centre  of  our 
life,  shall  I  turn  away  to  the  little  forces  that  would  drag  me  off 
to  little  aims?  Shall  I  trifle  with  this  new  power  of  believing? 
For  all  moral  carelessness  lessens  our  capacity  of  faith,  makes  us 
not  only  less  believing  but  less  able  to  believe,  destroys  as  far  as 
it  can  our  power  to  rest  on  testimony  for  truth.  It  is  not  only 
that  some  drops  are  spilled,  but  the  cup  itself  is  broken  into  use- 
lessness.  And  most  of  all,  we  are  conscious  that  it  is  growing 
harder  and  harder  every  day  for  us  to  believe ;  the  conviction  that 
once  brought  faith  inevitably  does  not  bring  it  now,  and  the  faith 
when  it  comes  does  not  bless  us,  as  it  once  did,  with  trust  and 
peace.  This  is  what  the  soul  that  has  once  felt  the  simplicity  of 
Christ  dreads  most  of  all,  for  it  breaks  that  simplicity  into  the 
old  fragmentary  life  again.  "Give  me  a  hope  that  points  where 
my  life's  hope  is  pointing,  a  light  that  shines  to  lead  me  Christ- 
ward.  Let  me  ignore  the  system  and  the  church,  the  teacher 
and  the  book,  that  will  not  give  me  these."  This  is  the  soul's 
new  cry.  This  must  be  the  world's  cry  if  it  ever  sees  salva- 


MT.  22-23]     THE  FIRST  SERMON  289 

tion.  Our  hope  is  in  this  Christian  radicalism,  which  through 
the  myriad  shows  and  semblances  of  human  life  goes  down  di- 
rectly to  the  heart  of  things,  and  seizes  Faith  and  grapples  Hope 
and  clings  to  Charity,  and  says,  "Lo,  out  of  these  shall  grow  a 
Christian  Church  for  all  the  world,  and  out  of  these  a  Christian 
experience  for  me."  Is  there  not  something  solemnly  heroic  in 
this  one  central  purpose  standing  thus  calmly  in  the  midst  of  the 
feverish  anarchy  of  the  world's  million  hopes  and  schemes?  So 
men  were  bartering  and  selling  and  eating  and  drinking,  and  the 
noonday  hubbub  was  loud  and  wild  in  Jerusalem  of  old,  while  the 
great  agony  of  Calvary  was  working  out  the  world's  redemption. 

And  one  other  great  conviction  finds  expression  in  the  first 
sermon.  It  is  only  hinted  at,  in  a  few  brief  sentences,  while 
the  long  process  leading  up  to  it  could  not  be  described. 
That  process  went  back  to  his  schooldays,  when  he  first  began 
to  feel  the  revelation  of  himself  to  himself,  through  his  know- 
ledge of  human  history  and  the  ways  of  man  in  this  world. 
All  through  his  college  years,  this  identification  of  himself 
with  humanity  had  been  increasing.  The  gospel  which  had 
come  to  him  had  been  meant  for  the  race ;  what  had  been 
given  for  the  race  had  been  intended  for  him.  Here  lay  the 
groundwork  of  so  much  that  was  distinctive  in  his  preaching 
and  in  a  great  measure  the  secret  of  his  power.  He  came  to 
men  as  if  he  were  indeed  one  of  them,  speaking  forth  from 
the  heart  of  a  common  humanity :  — 

This  new  Christian  simplicity  is  not  perfect  till  it  recognizes 
the  world's  hope  in  its  own.  Then  there  comes  the  true  "liberal- 
ity "  of  our  religion.  The  man  begins  to  identify  himself  with 
the  race,  and  wins  a  share  in  its  collective  faith  and  power.  He 
multiplies  his  life  eight  hundred  millionfold.  The  world  was 
made,  and  the  sun  and  stars  ordained,  and  salvation  sent  to  earth 
alike  for  humanity  and  him.  The  history  of  the  race  becomes  his 
experience,  the  happiness  of  the  race  his  glory,  the  progress  of 
the  race  his  hope.  He  begins  to  say,  "  We  shall  do  this  and  thus, 
win  new  secrets  from  nature  and  new  truth  from  God, "  for  this 
man  goes  hand  in  hand  with  humanity  down  the  highways  of  its 
life,  till  they  stand  together  before  the  throne  of  God  in  heaven. 
He  says  of  Christ's  truths,  "I  believe  in  these  things  because  I 
know  that  they  have  helped  my  race.  I  look  to  them  as  I  look 
to  the  sun,  with  a  faith  that  all  these  centuries  of  sunlight  forbid 


290  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1858-59 

me  to  disown.  I  hear  them  from  the  Bible  claiming  my  alle- 
giance, aa  from  all  nature  I  hear  God's  truth  demanding  that  I 
should  give  reason  room  to  grow  to  love  and  faith." 

In  this  first  sermon  then  we  have  the  evidence  of  a  marvel- 
lous maturity.  These  truths  which  he  proclaimed  had  come 
to  him  by  solitary  meditations,  or  to  speak  more  truly,  and 
as  he  was  accustomed  to  speak,  these  thoughts  were  the 
winged  messengers  of  God  to  his  soul.  He  had  not  indeed 
yet  reached  the  truth  in  all  its  fulness  as  he  was  ultimately 
to  proclaim  it,  but  he  had  achieved  his  method  and  laid  the 
foundation  for  the  unfolding  of  his  power. 

His  Senior  year  in  the  seminary,  as  has  been  said,  was  a 
full  one,  but  not  so  favorable  to  the  direct  work  of  theologi- 
cal preparation  as  the  preceding  years.  In  addition  to  his 
studies  and  recitations,  he  was  teaching  Latin  and  Greek 
two  or  three  hours  every  day ;  he  was  writing  sermons ;  and 
with  another  member  of  his  class  he  was  taking  charge  of 
the  Sharon  Mission,  some  three  miles  from  the  seminary. 
There  were  other  similar  stations  in  the  vicinity,  where  stu- 
dents officiated  by  reading  service  and  extempore  preaching. 
There  was  a  natural  suspicion  in  the  audiences  who  waited 
on  these  young  preachers  that  the  presentation  of  the  gospel 
was  not  their  sole  aim,  but  that  they  were  exercising  their 
gifts  by  way  of  practice ;  somewhat  as  practice  in  a  hospital 
is  related  to  the  education  of  the  student  of  medicine.  But 
the  people  good-naturedly  submitted  to  the  process,  and  in 
their  turn  must  have  grown  critical  regarding  the  ability  and 
prospects  of  the  successive  candidates  to  whom  they  listened. 
The  common  name  given  to  them  was  practisers,  with  the 
emphasis  on  the  second  syllable.  There  is  a  tradition  that 
Phillips  Brooks  was  not  successful  in  these  ventures ;  indeed 
he  is  said  to  have  made  a  total  failure  on  his  first  attempt,  re- 
ceiving as  his  only  encouragement  the  advice  to  try  it  again. 
But  he  himself  appears  to  have  been  encouraged,  and  writes 
of  his  efforts  to  his  brother  Frederick,  after  a  few  weeks' 
experience:  "Yon  know  I  was  never  much  of  a  speaker. 
Lately  I  have  been  cultivating  the  extempore  address,  and, 


JET.  22-23]     THE  FIRST   SERMON  291 

though  no  orator  as  Brutus  is,  it  goes  pretty  glib.     I  expect 
to  preach  so  a  good  deal." 

It  was  while  he  was  thus  engaged  one  Sunday  at  the 
Sharon  Mission  that  two  strangers  appeared  in  the  congre- 
gation, who  had  come  for  the  purpose  of  listening  to  him. 
The  following  brief  entries  in  his  diary  tell  the  story :  — 

Sunday,  March  6,  1859.  A.  M.,  at  Chapel.  Communion.  Dr. 
Packard  preached.  P.  M.,  at  Sharon.  I  spoke  (present  50). 
Evg.  at  Sharon.  I  spoke  (present  40).  Met  Yocum  out  at 
Sharon,  also  Messrs.  Reed  and  Remington,  who  after  aft.  ser- 
vice made  me  an  offer  of  the  Church  of  the  Advent  in  Phila- 
delphia in  behalf  of  the  vestry. 

Monday,  March  7,  1859.  A.  M.  Called  on  Dr.  Sparrow 
about  Advent.  Afterwards  received  call  from  Mr.  Reed  and 
Mr.  Remington.  Wrote  to  Bp.  Eastburn  for  leave  and  to  Dr. 
Vinton  for  advice.  Also  wrote  to  Father.  Held  no  recitations 
in  the  forenoon. 

Tuesday,  March  8,  1859.     Rain  and  headache  all  day. 

The  headache  may  have  been  the  result  of  the  excitement 
into  which  he  was  thrown  by  the  unexpected  incident ;  and  is 
strangely  in  contrast  with  the  composure  waiting  upon  many 
similar  incidents  in  after  years.  His  constitution,  as  has 
been  noticed,  in  early  life  was  sensitive  and  susceptible  in 
the  highest  degree,  and  nervous  excitement  was  quickly  fol- 
lowed by  nervous  exhaustion.  A  circumstance  illustrating 
this  peculiarity  of  his  physical  constitution  he  once  related  to 
a  friend,  to  the  effect  that  after  his  first  day's  experience  as 
an  usher  in  the  Latin  School,  he  attempted  to  take  a  walk, 
but  found  himself  so  exhausted  after  a  few  minutes  that  he 
was  unable  to  continue  it.  He  poured  himself  with  all  the 
intensity  of  his  being  into  whatever  moved  him.  He  after- 
wards learned  to  economize  his  power,  but  at  this  time  he 
writes  of  this  week  of  excitement  through  which  he  was  pass- 
ing: "I  haven't  passed  such  a  week  before  for  three  years," 
and  again :  "  I  have  just  been  driven  crazy  this  last  week, 
between  a  need  of  thinking  and  these  recitations  that  don't 
leave  a  minute  to  think  in."  In  the  letter  which  he  wrote  to 
his  parents  the  day  after  he  received  the  call,  the  excited 
condition  of  his  mind  may  still  be  felt :  — 


PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1858-59 

Monday  morning,  March  7, 1850. 

DEAR  FATHER  AND  MOTHER,  — I  have  written  two  letters 
already  this  morning,  one  to  Bishop  Eastburn  and  one  to  Dr. 
Vinton,  and  now  I  ought  to  write  to  you  and  tell  you  all  about 
them.  You  can  imagine  my  surprise  yesterday  on  being  waited 
upon  by  two  gentlemen  who  evidently  came  on  business.  They 
were  a  committee  of  the  vestry  of  the  Church  of  the  Advent  in 
Philadelphia,  and  came  to  bring  me  a  call  to  become  their  rector 
in  July.  It  took  me  by  surprise,  as  I  had  for  some  time  dismissed 
the  matter  from  my  mind,  but  we  talked  it  all  over,  and  they  are 
very  urgent.  This  morning  I  had  a  long  talk  about  it  with  Dr. 
Sparrow.  He  was  in  Philadelphia  last  week,  and  they  saw  him 
there,  and  he  discussed  it  all  over  with  Dr.  Vinton.  He  proposed 
my  doing  this :  I  must  first  get  Bishop  Eastburn's  consent,  as  I 
am  his  candidate.  I  have  written  to  him.  It  's  doubtful,  and  if 
he  does  n't  agree  it  finishes  the  whole.  If  he  is  willing,  when 
the  call  comes  officially  I  can  offer  to  modify  it  by  agreeing  to 
supply  for  three  or  six  months,  so  as  to  try  the  working  of  things 
on  both  sides,  and  leave  the  door  open  for  either  at  the  end  of  that 
time.  I  left  it  so  with  the  committee,  and  am  to  write  to  them 
just  so  soon  as  I  hear  from  the  bishop.  Meanwhile  I  have  writ- 
ten to  Dr.  Vinton,  who  has  taken  great  interest  in  the  matter,  for 
advice,  and  shall  look  anxiously  for  his  answer.  Dr.  Sparrow 
thinks  it  is  a  call  that  ought  not  to  be  rejected,  and  his  advice 
was  strongly  for  my  taking  it  at  least  temporarily.  I  know  it  is 
a  place  of  great  responsibility  and  hard  work,  but  I  believe  the 
sooner  one  breaks  into  it  the  better.  The  gentlemen  who  came  to 
see  me  were  kind  and  cordial,  would  not  think  of  my  saying 
"No,"  said  the  vestry  were  unanimous,  and  that  when  they  had 
once  called  a  man  they  were  bound  to  stand  by  him  well.  It  is 
not  a  large  church,  seats  about  five  hundred,  about  one  hundred 
and  fifty  communicants,  good  building,  large  Sunday-school,  and 
everything  in  good  working  order ;  slight  debt  on  the  church,  which 
is  being  paid  off  regularly ;  salary  at  first  $1000,  but  soon  to  be 
raised  as  the  church  prospers;  at  any  rate  enough  to  live  on 
decently.  Well,  there  it  is,  —  of  course  it  is  on  my  mind  all  the 
time,  and  I  wish  I  could  talk  it  over  with  you.  I  want  to  find 
my  place  and  my  work,  and  I  think  there  are  some  signs  that 
this  is  it.  Write  me  what  you  all  think  about  it.  Dr.  Bedell's 
assistantship  has  been  filled.  Dr.  Vinton  told  Dr.  Sparrow  that 
he  had  planned  for  me  for  his  own  assistant,  but  I  believe  it 's 
better  to  take  a  small  church  and  have  it  all  one's  own,  and  feel 
more  master  of  its  work.  I  will  write  to  you,  when  I  hear  from 
the  bishop  and  Dr.  Vinton.  Love  to  all.  Excuse  this  selfish 
letter.  Tours  affectionately,  PHILLIPS. 


MT.  22-23]     THE  FIRST  SERMON  293 

The  call  created  as  much  interest  and  excitement  in  the 
quiet  household  on  Chauncy  Street  as  it  did  in  the  soul  of 
Phillips  Brooks.  It  was  regarded  as  a  family  affair;  his 
father,  his  mother,  his  brothers,  participated  in  the  discus- 
sion as  by  divine  right.  The  solidarity  of  the  family  life 
found  beautiful  and  impressive  illustration  in  the  letters  that 
came  and  went.  The  father  must  needs  satisfy  himself  by  a 
visit  to  Philadelphia,  by  a  personal  inspection  of  the  parish 
and  conversation  with  its  officers.  There  were  many  difficul- 
ties to  be  considered  and  overcome.  Among  these  was  Dr. 
Vinton.  He  had  left  Boston  in  the  fall  of  1858,  after  a  min- 
istry of  sixteen  years,  to  become  the  rector  of  the  large  and 
important  parish  of  the  Holy  Trinity  in  Philadelphia,  which 
occupied  a  new  and  imposing  edifice  in  the  most  fashionable 
part  of  the  city.  The  church  was  one  of  the  strongest  in  the 
country,  and  when  it  looked  for  a  rector  it  had  called  the 
man  who  was  universally  conceded  to  be  the  foremost  preacher 
in  the  Episcopal  Church.  It  had  been  a  severe  strain  on  St. 
Paul's  Church,  Boston,  to  sever  the  tie  which  bound  it  to  Dr. 
Vinton.  Especially  had  the  pain  of  parting  been  felt  by  the 
Brooks  family.  The  boys  had  grown  up  under  him,  none  of 
them  escaping  his  influence.  When  he  went  to  Philadelphia, 
he  had  the  intention  of  making  Phillips  Brooks  his  assistant 
in  his  new  parish.  Already  was  the  old  deferential  relation- 
ship between  a  boy  and  his  pastor  passing  into  the  relation 
of  a  friendship  to  which  the  disparity  of  years  was  no  bar- 
rier. When  Phillips  received  from  his  brother  a  photograph 
of  Dr.  Vinton,  to  hang  in  his  room  in  the  seminary,  he  was 
so  elated  that  he  dismissed  his  class  and  proceeded  at  once  to 
the  task  of  placing  it  in  position.  He  had  begun  to  be  proud 
of  his  acquaintance  with  him,  looking  up  to  him  as  a  great 
man,  who  had  lent  inspiration  to  his  life.  If  Dr.  Vinton 
wanted  him  for  his  assistant  minister  it  complicated  the  ques- 
tion of  his  accepting  the  Church  of  the  Advent.  Dr.  Vinton 
had  advised  him  to  wait  for  a  few  weeks  before  giving  his 
answer ;  and  he  writes  to  his  father  with  reference  to  it :  — 

He  wants  me  to  come  and  make  him  a  visit  and  see  the  ground. 
His  object  comes  out  in  the  last  part  of  his  letter.  He  wants  an 


294  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1858-59 

assistant,  but  his  church  is  n't  settled  enough  to  make  any  arrange- 
ment yet,  but  he  wants  me  to  wait  in  order,  as  he  intimates,  to  be 
ready  for  an  offer  of  that  place  as  soon  as  he  can  propose  it.  So 
here  I  am  all  adrift.  It 's  out  of  the  question  to  put  off  my  an- 
swer. The  church  is  waiting  now,  and  the  doctor  does  n't  seem 
to  remember  that  a  poor  deacon  can't  carry  things  with  quite  as 
high  a  hand  as  the  first  preacher  in  the  church.  I  must  choose 
now  between  Dr.  V.  's  assistantship  and  the  Advent,  and  if  I  choose 
Advent  then  good-by  to  all  the  Doctor's  friendliness  in  future. 

There  is  a  tone  of  excitement  and  confusion  in  these  let- 
ters, a  certain  timidity  and  dread  of  making  a  mistake,  as  he 
is  about  to  enter  on  real  life  in  the  great  world.  But  one 
issue  he  keeps  clear,  —  he  is  positive  that  it  is  better  to  take 
an  independent  position  at  the  start,  to  be  the  rector  of  a 
church  of  his  own.  In  this  respect  he  was  not  mistaken,  at 
least  for  himself.  But  so  momentous  also  seemed  the  task  of 
assuming  the  complete  charge  of  a  church  at  his  age  (he  was 
twenty -three  years  old)  that  he  hesitated  to  write  an  actual 
acceptance  to  his  call  until  an  agreement  had  been  reached 
by  which  he  left  the  parish  and  himself  at  liberty,  in  case 
there  should  be  failure  or  disappointment  on  either  side.  It 
may  be  that  he  recalled  again  how  once  before  he  had  con- 
fidently accepted  a  position  from  which  he  had  been  obliged 
to  resign.  There  is  no  over-confidence  now.  When  he 
agreed  to  go  to  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  it  was  understood 
to  be  an  engagement  of  three  months  only.  When  that  time 
had  erpired,  the  vestry  of  the  church  were  at  liberty  to  give 
him  a  permanent  call  as  they  might  see  fit. 

Meantime  another  difficulty  had  been  successfully  over- 
come. He  was  a  candidate  for  orders  in  the  diocese  of  Massa- 
chusetts. Bishop  Eastburn  might  decline  to  give  consent  to 
his  leaving  the  diocese  while  he  was  in  deacon's  orders.  The 
bishop  was  cautiously  approached  on  the  subject  and  with 
considerable  trepidation,  as  one  who  held  in  his  hands  the 
making  or  the  marring  of  a  young  man's  career.  The  letter 
of  Bishop  Eastburn  is  so  characteristic  that  it  is  given  in 
full.  The  bishop,  it  should  be  said,  was  a  stanch  defender 
of  the  principles  of  the  Evangelical  school,  their  unflinching 
advocate  in  season  and  out  of  season.  He  lacked  flexibility, 


MT.  22-23]      THE  FIRST   SERMON  295 

but  did  not  lack  in  courage.  He  was  an  Englishman  by  birth 
and  proud  of  his  descent ;  he  had  the  defects  of  his  national- 
ity, but  also  its  surpassing  merits.  He  gave  relief  to  the 
fears  of  the  anxious  candidate,  while  at  the  same  tune  he 
bore  his  familiar  protest  in  behalf  of  Evangelical  truth :  — 

BOSTON,  March  10,  1859. 

MY  DEAR  SIB,  —  I  have  just  received  your  note  in  reference 
to  the  invitation  from  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  Philadelphia.  I 
had  been  counting  with  pleasant  anticipation  upon  your  services, 
during  your  term  of  deacon's  orders  at  least,  in  this  diocese, 
where  we  need  well-educated  and  intelligent  men,  of  sound  Evan- 
gelical principles,  to  labor  in  bringing  souls  to  our  dear  Lord  and 
Saviour.  But  if  you  are  persuaded  that  you  hear  the  voice  of 
God  in  this  application,  calling  you  to  that  particular  field  of 
labor,  I  should  of  course  shrink  from  interposing  any  obstacle, 
and  I  cheerfully  give  my  consent. 

Should  you  carry  out  your  intention  of  being  ordained  in 
Virginia,  I  sball  be  obliged  if  you  will  let  me  know  after  the 
ordination  of  the  time  and  place  at  which  it  took  place,  as  I 
have  to  record  it  among  the  ordinations  of  this  diocese. 

My  sincere  prayer  is  that  wherever  you  may  be  placed  in  the 
great  vineyard  you  may  be  found  faithful,  always  and  everywhere, 
to  that  Master  whose  gospel  you  have  in  trust,  and  may  at  last 
receive  the  crown  of  life. 

I  am  very  sincerely  yours,  MANTON  EASTBUBN. 

So  the  great  issue  of  his  life  was  determined.  The  way 
was  clear  for  him  to  begin  his  ministry  in  Philadelphia.  He 
had  gone  to  the  theological  seminary  as  an  experiment,  un- 
certain what  the  result  would  be.  These  years  of  quiet  and 
seclusion  had  done  their  work,  resolved  the  tentative  mood 
into  a  glowing  enthusiasm  for  the  work  to  which  he  now 
believed  himself  to  be  called.  How  he  regarded  the  prospect, 
and  in  what  spirit  he  would  enter  upon  his  ministry,  is  told 
in  a  plain,  strong  letter  to  his  brother :  — 

THEOLOGICAL  SEMQTAHY,  Thursday  evening,  March  17, 1859. 

DEAB  WILLIAM,  —  .   .   .  As  to  Advent,  let  me  be  frank.     I 

feel,  I  believe,   more  fully  than  you  can  the  responsibility  and 

labor  of  the  place.     I  know,  too,  more  deeply  than  you  can  my 

own  deficiencies,  and  yet  I  have  engaged  to  go  there,  at  least  for 


296  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1858-59 

a  temporary  supply.  One  thing  I  am  sure  of,  —  it  was  not  ac- 
cepted  from  any  ambitious  desire  of  occupying  a  conspicuous  or 
responsible  place.  I  am  going  honestly,  as  I  believe,  in  a  sincere 
feeling  that  I  ought  to  go,  in  an  earnest  conviction  that  there  is 
work  there  to  be  done,  and  that  by  a  strength  above  my  own  I 
shall  be  helped  to  do  it.  The  ministry,  my  dear  William,  has 
been  growing  a  new  thing  to  me  this  year;  and  most  of  all  this 
direct  presentation  of  a  field  of  work  has,  I  believe,  sent  me  outside 
of  myself  to  look  for  direction  and  for  strength  where  it  is  pro- 
mised to  us  all.  I  believe  I  am  going  at  last  in  humility  to  tell 
the  Bible  story  to  those  people.  I  have  told  them  that  that  story 
was  all  I  had  to  bring,  in  all  its  simplicity  and  truth,  and  I  hope 
to  find  strength  to  tell  it  plainly  and  distinctly  at  least.  You 
know,  and  I  know,  that  Dr.  Yinton's  would  be  a  place  of  far  more 
prominence  and  promise  of  future  eminence  and  brilliant  calls,  but 
I  am  going  to  this  church,  meaning  if  God  prosper  my  work  there 
to  make  it  my  field  for  years  at  least.  Dr.  May  said,  "The 
moment  I  heard  of  it  I  said  you  ought  to  go, "  and  Dr.  Sparrow, 
though  a  less  outspoken  man,  freely  and  fully  said  he  believed 
that  this  call  pointed  out  my  path  of  duty.  Of  course  in  all  this 
I  have  weighed  the  solid  facts.  From  what  experience  I  have 
had,  I  do  not  feel  afraid  of  two  plain  sermons  in  a  week.  I  have 
gained  considerable  facility  in  extempore  speaking,  and  shall  do 
that  much.  The  other  work,  visiting,  etc.,  I  am  unused  to,  but 
do  not  look  forward  to  with  dread.  They  are  kind  and  simple 
people,  and  ready  and  anxious  to  make  their  minister's  life  a 
pleasant  one.  So  much  to-night.  Write  me  again  soon. 

Good-by,  PHILL. 

He  had  decided  to  begin  his  rectorship  of  the  Church  of 
the  Advent  on  the  second  Sunday  in  July,  1859,  for  the 
parish  wanted  him  at  once.  But  this  would  deprive  him  of 
a  vacation  after  a  hard  year's  labor,  as  the  seminary  year 
ended  with  the  first  week  in  July.  Some  vacation  he  must 
have,  so  argued  his  father  and  his  anxious  mother.  He  was 
to  lose  his  summer  at  home ;  he  therefore  applied  for  a  leave 
of  absence  in  order  that  he  might  have  a  month  with  his 
family  and  recuperate  his  strength  as  it  could  be  done  no- 
where else  so  well  as  at  home.  And  this  home-coming  now 
meant  so  much  to  him.  Somewhat  as  a  conqueror  would 
he  come.  He  had  retrieved  the  failure  which  had  occurred 
three  years  before.  Then  the  world  looked  blank  to  him, 


JET.  22-23]     THE  FIRST  SERMON  297 

without  opening  or  opportunity.  Now  he  had  twice  received 
important  recognition,  first  as  a  teacher,  associated  with  the 
faculty  of  the  seminary  as  a  quasi-member,  and  he  had  also 
received  what  young  men  would  regard  as  a  flattering  call  to 
a  city  parish.  He  took  a  humble  view  of  these  things,  for 
he  had  received  a  lesson  in  humility  which  had  struck  deep 
within  him.  Compared  with  the  recognition  of  a  world, 
which  was  soon  to  follow,  these  first  triumphs  in  his  career 
seem  small.  But  to  the  father  and  the  mother,  and  the  boys 
at  home,  it  looked  quite  otherwise.  Above  all,  he  was  now 
going  home  for  the  last  time  as  a  boy,  to  talk  things  over  in 
the  old  familiar  way,  before  the  official  routine  and  the  ways 
of  life  had  given  him  a  place  among  men.  There  is  one  more 
letter  before  the  long  boyhood  yields  to  a  man's  responsi- 
bilities :  — 

March  26,  1859. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  must  limit  myself  to  a  line,  to  tell  you 
what  the  chances  are  of  my  imposing  upon  your  hospitality  pretty 
soon.  I  have  just  had  a  talk  with  Dr.  Sparrow,  and  he  is  so 
anxious  that  I  should  be  here  at  the  last  of  the  term,  to  prepare 
the  preps,  for  examination,  that  he  says  if  I  go  away  at  all  (and 
it  '11  be  very  hard  to  get  his  assent  to  that)  I  must  go  at  once. 
The  chance  seems  to  he  that  I  can  get  the  month  of  April,  and  if 
you  '11  leave  the  latch-string  out  the  first  of  the  week  after  next, 
probably  I  '11  pull  it.  He  is  going  to  propose  it  to  the  faculty, 
and  there  is  a  great  deal  of  doubt  still  whether  there  will  be  any 
man  found  to  take  my  place,  —  so  you  see  it  's  all  uncertain,  but 
p'r'aps.  Many  thanks  for  your  kind  letters  about  Advent.  I 
received  their  official  call  the  other  day.  Have  n't  answered  it 
yet.  It  is  to  the  rectorship,  but  I  shall  only  offer  to  supply  for 
three  months. 

Nothing  from  Dr.  Vinton.  He  is  mad  no  doubt.  I  'm  sorry, 
but  it  can't  be  helped.  Tell  Mother  to  be  getting  ready  for  an 
appetite,  and  if  I  don't  come,  William  and  George  and  Fred  and 
Arthur  and  John  can  dispose  of  it  for  me.  Love  to  all. 

FHILL. 

He  started  on  his  journey  Friday,  the  first  day  of  April, 
stopping  by  the  way  in  Philadelphia,  where  he  called  on  Dr. 
Vinton  and  also  met  the  vestry  of  the  Church  of  the  Advent. 
On  the  following  Sunday,  he  went  to  Holy  Trinity  to  hear 


298  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1858-59 

Dr.  Vinton,  and  in  the  evening  he  was  among  the  congrega- 
tion of  the  church  that  was  soon  to  be  his,  listening  to  a  ser- 
mon by  Dr.  Odenheimer.  Tuesday  morning,  he  reached 
Boston,  where  he  remained  for  the  month.  It  was  the  season 
of  Lent,  and  he  records  his  attendance  upon  many  services  at 
St.  Paul's,  where  the  Rev.  Lucius  W.  Bancroft  was  officiat- 
ing, at  prayer  meetings  held  in  St.  Paul's  and  at  old  Trinity, 
and  finally  at  an  evening  communion  on  Maundy  Thursday 
at  the  Church  of  the  Advent.  He  seems  to  have  been  eager 
to  hear  preaching,  for  he  went  often  to  hear  Dr.  Kirk  at 
Ashburton  Place,  and  was  fortunate  in  hearing  Professor 
Park  of  Andover,  whose  occasional  appearance  in  Boston 
pulpits  was  an  event  of  importance.  He  went  out  to  Cam- 
bridge, meeting  his  classmates  Abbot  and  Chase,  and  hear- 
ing Professor  (now  Bishop)  Huntington  in  the  college  chapel. 
In  the  intervals  of  religious  services  he  spent  much  of  his 
time  at  the  Boston  Athenaeum,  making  up  for  lost  opportu- 
nities, revelling  in  the  many  new  books  on  its  tables.  He 
went  often  also  with  his  brothers  to  the  menagerie,  which 
was  a  source  of  perennial  interest.  At  last  he  overtaxed  his 
strength,  and  again  for  a  third  time  sprained  his  ankle,  from 
which  it  was  many  weeks  before  he  finally  recovered.  Still 
lame,  he  started  for  Virginia,  and  found  himself  in  the  theo- 
logical seminary  on  the  1st  of  May. 

The  great  event  was  his  ordination  to  the  deaconate.  The 
necessary  credentials  from  the  standing  committee  of  the 
diocese  of  Massachusetts  were  brought  to  Alexandria  by  his 
father,  who  had  determined  to  be  present  on  the  solemn 
occasion,  with  the  many  other  visitors  attracted  to  the  hill  by 
the  sacred  festivities.  The  last  week  before  his  ordination 
was  crowded  with  engagements.  He  records  the  examina- 
tions of  the  preparatory  department  by  the  professors  as 
"finishing  all  the  business."  He  himself  was  examined  at 
a  special  examination,  by  Dr.  May  in  church  history  and 
Hooker,  and  by  Dr.  Sparrow  in  the  Articles.  Among 
others  who  were  present  as  visitors  was  Mr.  Kemsen  of  the 
Church  of  the  Advent,  Bishop  Payne  (missionary  bishop  to 
Africa),  and  Rev.  Dr.  Tyng  of  St.  George's  Church,  New 


MT.  22-23]     THE  FIRST   SERMON  299 

York.  He  found  time  to  show  his  father  all  attentions,  who 
with  his  quick  eye  for  men  and  events  keenly  enjoyed  all  that 
came  under  his  observation.  He  was  proud  of  his  father, 
and  writes  home  that  he  made  a  fine  impression.  Thursday, 
June  30,  was  the  Commencement  Day,  when  in  the  presence 
of  Mr.  Remsen  his  future  church  warden,  his  father,  the 
large  audience,  and  all  the  ecclesiastical  dignitaries,  he 
delivered  his  thesis  on  "The  Centralizing  Power  of  the 
Gospel."  The  next  day,  Friday,  was  Ordination  Day, 
which  was  ushered  in  with  a  prayer  meeting  at  eight  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  Then  came  Bishop  Meade  of  Virginia.  At 
nine  o'clock  was  the  interview  appointed  when  the  young 
candidate  for  orders  should  hear  what  the  bishop  had  to  say 
to  him.  Bishop  Meade  was  held  in  highest  reverence  in 
Virginia  as  the  founder  of  the  theological  seminary,  a  great 
preacher  as  well  as  administrator,  and  a  leader  in  the  coun- 
sels of  the  Evangelical  school  in  the  church.  The  services 
in  the  chapel  began  at  eleven  o'clock,  and  the  sermon  was 
preached  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Gibson  of  Petersburg,  Va.  Those 
who  were  ordained  with  him  were  Messrs.  Kidder,  Paddock, 
Strong,  and  Townsend. 

The  next  day,  Saturday,  he  started  for  Fredericksburg, 
Va.,  to  pay  a  visit  to  his  friend,  the  Rev.  A.  M.  Randolph 
(now  the  Bishop  of  southern  Virginia),  who  was  then  recently 
married,  and  had  offered  him  his  pulpit  for  the  following 
Sunday,  when  the  new  deacon  should  preach  his  first  sermon. 
Bishop  Randolph  has  contributed  this  account  of  the  memo- 
rable day : 1 — 

He  was  ordained  a  deacon  in  the  seminary  chapel  on  Friday 
the  last  week  in  June,  1859,  and  the  next  day  I  had  the  pleasure 
of  welcoming  him  in  my  home  in  Fredericksburg,  Va.  On  Sun- 
day, he  preached  for  the  first  time  in  the  morning,  and  again  at 
night  at  St.  George's  Church.  The  good  people  of  Fredericks- 
burg refer  with  pride  to  the  fact  that  his  first  sermons  were 
preached  there,  and  some  of  the  older  members  of  the  congrega- 
tion, who  innocently  regarded  St.  George's  as  the  centre  of  church 
influence  in  Virginia,  and  if  of  Virginia,  necessarily  so  of  the 
world,  might  have  supposed  that  their  enthusiastic  verdict  of  him, 
1  The  texts  from  which  he  preached  were  Matt.  xxvi.  8,  and  Epheaians  iv.  13. 


300  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1858-59 

that  he  was  the  beat  young  preacher  they  had  ever  heard,  was  the 
foundation  of  his  success  and  his  wide  reputation  throughout 
America  and  England. 

In  thinking  of  my  impression  of  the  two  sermons  and  of  the 
way  they  were  spoken,  and  also  of  the  impression  made  upon  the 
many  intelligent  people  who  listened  to  them,  I  am  reminded 
of  these  characteristics  of  his  preaching,  which  all  who  ever 
heard  him  will  recognize,  —  a  singular  absence  of  self-conscious- 
ness, a  spontaneity  of  beautiful  thinking,  clothed  in  pure  English 
words,  a  joy  in  his  own  thoughts,  and  a  victorious  mastery  of 
the  truth  he  was  telling,  combined  with  humility  and  reverence 
and  love  for  the  congregation.  I  have  heard  him  often  since,  and 
the  impression  was  always  the  same.  He  was  unspoiled  and  un- 
spotted by  the  world,  especially  by  that  most  dangerous  and  insidi- 
ous of  all  the  world  forces,  the  praise  of  men. 

The  story  of  the  ordination  and  of  the  last  impressive  week 
at  the  theological  seminary  may  fitly  close  with  a  letter  from 
his  father,  written  at  Philadelphia,  where  he  stopped  on  his 
journey  home  and  while  the  scene  was  still  vivid  which  had 
so  deeply  moved  him :  — 

PHILADELPHIA,  Sunday  evening,  July  3,  1859. 

DEAR  PHILLIPS, — I  arrived  here  about  10.30  o'clock  last 
night,  being  detained  at  Wilmington  some  time,  as  the  cars  ran 
over  a  man  and  killed  him  instantly!  He  had  been  recognized 
when  we  left.  I  am  at  this  splendid  house,  and  half  inclined  to 
take  up  my  summer  quarters  here.  Splendid  indeed!  I  went  to 
Advent  (Church)  this  A.  M.  Mr.  Smith  did  not  preach,  some- 
body else ;  and  he  announced  that  the  rector-elect,  Mr.  Burns  ( !), 
who  had  just  been  ordained,  would  commence  his  duties  next 
Sunday.  I  sat  with  your  warden ;  he  and  Mr.  Remsen  were  on 
the  lookout  for  me.  Was  introduced  to  a  goodly  number  of 
vestrymen,  and  they  were  all  anxious  to  have  you  get  along. 
They  seem  to  have  the  right  spirit  and  the  most  friendly  disposi- 
tions. It  was  sacrament  day.  A  very  pretty  church ;  "a  gem  of  a 
church  inside, "  as  you  called  it ;  very  neat ;  a  very  good  and  well- 
appearing  congregation,  and  a  very  flourishing  Sunday-school, 
which  I  also  attended.  .  .  . 

I  hope  you  have  had  a  good  Sunday.  How  much  I  have  thought 
of  you,  and  prayed  for  you.  I  can  hardly  realize  the  events  of  the 
past  week.  They  have  been  too  great  and  too  delightful  to  my 
feelings,  Phillips,  to  be  yet  fully  realized.  I  do  thank  God  for  the 
many  things  I  have  seen  and  heard,  and  for  you,  my  dear  son,  that 


.  22-23]     THE  FIRST   SERMON  301 

you  have  given  your  friends  such  good  impressions  as  were  ex- 
pressed to  me  at  the  seminary.  Depend  upon  it,  my  heart  has  been 
gladdened  and  made  happy  beyond  what  I  dare  express  or  can 
express.  I  only  wish  your  anxious  and  loving  mother  could  have 
been  with  me  and  seen  all  I  did,  also.  At  times  I  have  thought 
it  too  much  to  realize.  You  perhaps  little  thought  when  you 
were  having  that  last  meeting  in  Strong's  room,  and  the  music  of 
your  voices  sounded  in  my  ears  so  sweetly,  I  was  in  spirit  with 
you.  And  to-day,  while  kneeling  at  the  chancel  rail  where  you 
are  to  assist  in  dispensing  the  elements  of  the  communion,  how 
full  my  heart  was,  and  how  earnestly  I  prayed  that  you  might 
have  the  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit  showered  upon  you,  to  be 
faithful  and  devoted  in  all  your  great  and  responsible  duties  in 
that  sacred  place.  This  last  week  I  shall  never  forget.  That 
ordination  day  will  remain  foremost  among  all  the  scenes  of  my 
future  life.  God  grant  I  may  see  more  such. 


CHAPTER  IX 
1859 

RETROSPECT  OF  THE  LIFE  IN  VIRGINIA.  THE  EV ANGELICAL 
INFLUENCE.  DR.  SPARROW  AS  A  TEACHER.  THEOLO- 
GICAL ESSAYS.  EXTRACTS  FROM  NOTE-BOOKS 

WHEN  Phillips  Brooks  said,  "It  is  the  five  years  after 
college  which  are  the  most  decisive  in  a  man's  career,  any 
event  which  happens  then  has  its  full  influence,"  his  own  life 
was  before  him  as  he  wrote.  Indeed,  his  own  life  was  always 
before  him  as  a  book  wherein  he  read  the  ways  of  God  with 
a  man  in  this  world.  He  was  always  turning  it  over  with 
himself,  seeing  deeper  spiritual  meanings  in  all  that  had  be- 
fallen him.  Every  event  in  his  childhood  was  to  the  end  fresh 
in  his  memory,  —  his  college  life  also,  his  experience  in  the 
theological  seminary.  He  was  wont  to  browse  over  the  signi- 
ficance of  the  fact  that  for  these  three  years  he  had  been 
isolated  from  the  world  in  an  almost  monastic  seclusion.  He 
was  now  on  the  eve  of  bursting  on  the  world's  vision  as  some 
marvellous  phenomenon,  with  an  unexampled  career  of  power 
and  of  conquest,  —  a  phenomenon  curious  and  inexplicable, 
so  it  seemed,  a  source  of  perpetual  wonder  as  well  as  of  re- 
freshment and  delight.  The  importance  then  of  these  few 
years  must  be  the  apology,  if  any  is  needed,  for  dwelling 
still  a  moment  longer  on  their  creative  influence,  on  their 
relation  to  the  history  of  a  man  with  whom  life  was  a  per- 
petual sacrament,  a  never  ceasing  transmutation  of  things 
material  into  things  spiritual,  before  whose  inward  altar  the 
sacred  lamp  was  always  burning. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  it  was  good  for  him,  and  a  divine 
ordering  of  events,  that  he  should  have  gone  to  the  theolo- 
gical seminary  of  Virginia.  During  his  first  year  there  he 
is  seen  as  restless,  discontented,  even  bitter  in  his  criticism 


MT.  23]  THE  RETROSPECT  303 

and  anxious  to  get  away.  When  he  left  for  home  at  the  end 
of  the  first  year,  he  packed  up  everything  in  his  room  in  the 
expectation  of  not  returning.  But  this  restlessness,  this 
denunciation  of  his  surroundings,  was  for  the  most  part  the 
result  of  a  subjective  struggle,  or  it  may  be  the  birth  pangs 
of  a  great  soul  awakening  to  the  spiritual  life.  It  was  not 
the  fault  of  his  environment.  He  saw  this  as  clearly  as  any 
one  at  a  later  time.  The  seminary  was  by  no  means  perfect, 
indeed  was  lacking  in  many  ways,  and  those  essential  ones. 
But  no  seminary  in  this  country  or  elsewhere,  no  provision 
for  training  a  theological  student,  could  have  met  his  case. 
No  teachers  could  have  been  found  wise  enough  to  direct  his 
course.  He  had  his  own  way  to  follow  in  self -education  and 
self -direction.  Indeed,  he  might  well  be  grateful  to  what 
education  he  did  receive  there  that  it  did  not  prove,  as  edu- 
cation sometimes  does,  "the  grave  of  a  great  mind."  He 
was  left  to  himself ;  no  superior  intellect  dominated  or  over- 
awed; he  traversed  the  fields  of  theology  for  himself  and 
drew  his  own  conclusions.  He  recorded  at  this  time  the 
ideal  vision  of  a  perfect  teacher,  but  must  have  known,  as  he 
did  so,  that  such  a  teacher  did  not  exist,  nor  was  it  desirable 
that  a  young  man  should  have  so  easy  and  final  a  solution  of 
the  problems  of  life.  But  the  passage  is  significant  as  point- 
ing to  his  sense  of  intellectual  isolation :  — 

A  man  that  you  could  come  to  with  the  results  of  your  specula- 
tion, come  to  him  confidingly  and  truthfully,  and  say,  Here,  see 
what  I  have  done ;  take  and  try  what  truth,  what  reality,  or  what 
solid  stuff  there  is  about  it ;  weed  out  for  me  the  weak ;  test  how 
much  strong  remains,  how  strong  it  is,  what  use  it  is  good  for; 
try  it  unsparingly  and  thoroughly,  for  you  are  wiser  and  more 
trustworthy  than  I. 

There  is  one  passage  in  his  note-book  which  may  be  quoted 
here,  as  giving  something  of  his  outlook  during  his  second 
year  of  study,  though  it  must  not  be  regarded  as  his  complete 
or  final  estimate :  — 

These  things  may  be  true  or  false  that  we  are  saying  and 
believing  every  day  about  the  daily  points  that  are  always  coming 
up  for  us  to  think  or  speak  about.  We  cannot  but  fear  that  very 


3o4  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859 

many  of  them  are  very  far  indeed  from  truth ;  but  still  it  is  well 
for  us  to  believe  them,  and  to  say  them,  too,  for  it  ia  these  words 
and  faith  that  really  make  a  life  for  us  which  otherwise  we  could 
not  have.  It  will  not  do  to  turn  our  whole  existence  into  a  pru- 
dent suspense.  We  must  be  ready  to  say  promptly  and  firmly, 
Yes,  this  is  right  and  that  is  wrong,  this  is  wise  and  that  is  fool- 
ish, and  this  is  strong  and  that  is  weak.  Then,  when  we  reach 
the  end  of  each  stage  of  our  journey,  and  look  curiously  back  to  see 
what  sort  of  work  we  have  made  of  it,  we  shall  see  something 
more  than  a  bare,  broad,  safe  plain.  There  will  be  marks  of  our 
labor  all  over  it,  a  well  dug  here,  a  fort  raised  there,  a  garden 
or  two  planted,  and  a  forest  or  two  cleared  away,  — much  work 
clumsily,  no  doubt,  and  rudely  done,  perhaps  some  few  trees  felled 
that  should  have  been  left  standing,  and  some  few  wells  dug 
where  a  wiser  head  might  have  told  us  there  was  no  water  to  be 
had ;  but  on  the  whole,  the  field  is  better  for  our  toil,  it  will  be 
easier  for  future  travellers ;  and  we  too  are  better  for  it,  and  the 
rest  of  our  journey  will  be  easier  to  us  for  the  health  and  muscle 
that  this  early  work  has  given  us. 

When  he  speaks  of  belief  in  the  above  extract  from  his 
note-book,  and  of  believing  things  that  may  be  true  or  false, 
he  uses  the  word  "belief  "  manifestly  in  the  sense  of  assent  to 
authority.  The  word  belief  has  always  carried  these  two 
meanings,  assent  on  the  one  hand  where  a  man  receives 
on  the  authority  of  another,  and  on  the  other  hand  inward 
conviction  which  springs  from  insight  and  appropriation  to 
one's  spiritual  needs.  We  are  touching  here  a  very  difficult 
question  which  in  those  years  when  Phillips  Brooks  was  pre- 
paring for  the  ministry  confronted  every  thoughtful  mind,  — 
a  question  by  no  means  finally  answered  even  after  the  lapse 
of  nearly  half  a  century.  Its  full  discussion  here  is  of  course 
impossible.  But  if  we  may  interpret  Phillips  Brooks's  atti- 
tude as  partially  disclosed  in  these  words  above  quoted,  he 
appears  as  acquiescing  in  many  theological  statements  of 
whose  nature  he  was  not  certain.  The  church  might  be  com- 
pared to  some  vast  mansion  with  its  surrounding  estate, 
built  in  generations  long  gone  by,  and  adapted  for  use  and 
convenience  in  the  age  when  it  was  built.  In  this  mansion 
the  later  generations  were  still  abiding,  finding  it  habitable, 
though  not  always  convenient  or  in  every  respect  suited  to 


MT.  23]  THE  RETROSPECT  305 

the  needs  of  a  later  age.  But  it  was  better  to  dwell  in  it  as 
it  was  than  to  destroy  and  rebuild  from  the  foundations. 
"It  will  not  do  to  turn  our  whole  being,"  he  writes,  "into  a 
prudent  suspense,  for  in  the  meantime  we  should  be  home- 
less and  without  the  things  that  make  for  life.  But  it  is  pos- 
sible in  this  mansion,  or  the  estate  where  it  is  planted,  to  make 
some  changes  or  improvements,  adapting  it  to  the  demands 
of  a  larger  and  fuller  life." 

It  will  be  interesting  for  a  moment  to  compare  this  posi- 
tion with  the  different  attitudes  taken  by  leading  ecclesiastics 
or  theological  parties  contemporaneous  with  the  middle  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  The  leaders  of  the  Oxford  Movement, 
Newman  and  Pusey,  and  many  others  were  confronted  with 
the  same  problem.  They  had  maintained  that  the  true  anti- 
dote for  the  doubts  and  denials  which  distracted  the  church 
was  to  assert  the  binding  and  final  authority  of  dogmas  or 
doctrines  which  had  been  set  forth  in  one  particular  and 
remote  age  of  the  church.  Thus  they  studied  with  an  anti- 
quarian zeal  that  distant  age  when  there  was  great  conflict  of 
opinion  in  the  ancient  church,  —  the  age  of  the  Arians  and 
semi-Arians,  the  Nestorians,  Eutychians,  Pelagians,  Monoph- 
ysites,  and  others.  The  dogmas  which  were  then  proclaimed 
in  the  fourth  and  following  centuries  by  councils  or  other 
ecclesiastical  authority  they  declared  to  be  final  statements; 
the  very  words  and  expressions,  ipsissima  verba,  then  used 
were  to  be  retained  and  enforced  as  having  a  sacred  and 
infallible  meaning  and  value.  The  leaders  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church,  who  followed  with  deep  interest  the  Oxford 
Movement,  saw  that  this  position  was  untenable.  They  too, 
indeed,  respected  the  theological  opinions  and  decisions  of 
the  ancient  church,  but  they  recognized,  as  the  Oxford  leaders 
did  not,  that  these  decisions  were  couched  in  the  language 
and  fashion  of  a  bygone  period,  adapted  for  the  time  when 
they  were  set  forth,  but  not  necessarily  suitable  in  every  case 
to  the  changed  conditions  of  modern  life.  What  was  needed 
in  order  to  overcome  the  doubts  and  difficulties  which  beset 
belief  was  to  proclaim  a  living  authority  within  the  church, 
capable  now,  as  then,  of  reasserting,  reforming,  or  modifying 


306  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1859 

statements  of  truth,  and  recognizing  the  changes  required  by 
human  development.  Only  let  men  be  accustomed  to  admit 
the  existence  of  such  an  absolutely  infallible  authority,  resid- 
ing at  Rome,  and  doubts  would  disappear,  and  opposition  to 
dogmas  would  give  way  to  a  docile  disposition,  willing  to 
accept  whatever  the  church  deemed  right  to  enforce.  The 
influence  of  this  attitude  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church 
finally  told  upon  Newman  and  upon  hundreds  of  the  clergy ; 
thousands  of  the  laity  also,  who  had  been  trained  by  Newman, 
abandoned  the  church  of  their  fathers  and  entered  into  sub- 
mission to  the  Latin  obedience.1 

This  was  the  question  which  Phillips  Brooks  also  con- 
fronted, but  he  solved  it  in  his  own  way.  He  seems  to  have 
known  nothing,  as  has  been  observed,  of  Pusey  or  of  New- 
man. There  is  no  allusion  to  them  in  his  note-books,  nor 
did  he  ever  take  the  slightest  interest,  so  far  as  is  evident 
from  his  reading  or  his  writing,  in  their  attitude  or  teaching. 
Nor  did  he  ever  feel  any  interest  in  the  Roman  Church;  that 
issue  for  him  was  forever  closed  by  the  Protestant  Reforma- 
tion. His  interest  in  history  was  deep  and  vital,  but  it  was 
the  history  of  humanity  as  a  whole,  not  of  any  one  section  of 
it,  —  humanity  in  its  whole  career,  not  in  any  segment  of  that 
career  cut  off  and  segregated  from  the  whole.  But  he  be- 
lieved in  authority,  as  strongly  and  devoutly  as  any  devotee 
of  Rome.  It  was  the  authority  of  humanity  to  which  he 
deferred,  that  human  race  of  which  he  formed  a  part,  and  by 
his  identification  with  which  he  became  a  stronger  man,  mul- 
tiplying his  personality  a  thousandfold.  He  believed  in 
development  as  did  Newman  when  he  wrote  his  famous 
treatise,  or  as  Roman  controversialists  believed  it.  But  he 
did  not  believe  that  development  stopped  with  the  Reforma- 
tion, or  that  it  continued  to  go  on  only  in  the  Latin  Church. 
He  regarded  that  part  of  humanity  which  broke  with  Rome 
in  the  northern  nations  and  races  as  carrying  on  a  higher 
development,  whose  manifestations  and  results  appealed  to 

1  For  a  clear  statement  of  the  question  at  issue  between  Rome  and  the  High 
Church  Anglican  School,  aee  Ward's  Life  and  Times  of  Cardinal  Newman, 
TO! .  i.  chap.  ix. 


JET.  23]  THE  RETROSPECT  307 

his  soul  with  the  voice  of  supreme  authority.  The  utterance 
of  that  higher  voice  of  humanity,  as  it  had  found  expression 
in  the  standards  and  formularies  of  the  Church  of  England 
or  of  its  daughter,  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  in  the 
United  States,  commended  itself  to  him  as  in  the  nature  of 
the  case  likely  to  be  rational  and  true.  Others  had  lived  in 
and  found  it  true  for  them ;  the  presumption  was  in  its  favor 
that  it  was  true  for  him. 

What,  then,  did  he  mean  when  he  said  that  many  of  the 
things  we  are  saying  and  believing  may  possibly  be  far  from 
the  truth  ?  Too  much  importance,  of  course,  should  not  be 
attached  to  a  casual  utterance  like  this,  at  an  early  age,  and 
not  intended  or  revised  for  publication.  Indeed,  it  would 
have  been  unjust  to  him  to  put  in  print  what  he  never  de- 
signed for  that  purpose,  unless  it  could  be  shown  that  it 
threw  light  upon  his  development.  It  must  be  remembered 
that  at  this  time  both  parties  in  the  Episcopal  Church  were 
freely  criticising  its  standards,  nor  was  either  party  quite  con- 
tented with  all  and  everything  contained  in  the  Book  of  Com- 
mon Prayer.  The  High  Church  party  was  experiencing  dif- 
ficulty with  those  forms  of  doctrine  which  had  been  fixed  at 
the  Reformation.  Newman  before  he  left  the  church  had 
found  himself  unable  to  hold  the  Thirty-Nine  Articles  in  the 
natural,  historical  meaning.  He  had  put  a  forced  interpre- 
tation upon  them  in  Tract  XC.,  which  reversed  the  meaning 
of  those  who  wrote  the  articles,  giving  them  another  meaning 
in  harmony  with  the  decisions  of  the  Council  of  Trent.  Upon 
this  forced  interpretation  Pusey  and  Keble  and  other  repre- 
sentatives of  High  Anglicanism  continued  to  stand,  the  only 
condition  on  which  they  could  remain  in  the  Church  of 
England. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Low  Church  or  Evangelical 
school  was  beginning  at  this  time  to  find  difficulties  in  the 
Prayer  Book.  For  although  it  had  been  drawn  up  in  the  age 
of  the  Reformation  by  those  with  whom  they  were  in  entire 
agreement,  yet  it  was  impossible  even  for  reformers  like 
Cranmer  or  Ridley  entirely  to  free  themselves  or  their  work 
from  traces  of  pre -Reformation  opinions  and  customs.  The 


3o8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1859 

reformers  did  not  put  forth  a  new  book  in  the  common 
prayer,  but  revised  old  manuals,  and  in  so  doing  unintention- 
ally allowed  phrases  and  usages  to  remain  which  were  not 
in  harmony  with  their  well-known  principles.  These  scat- 
tered, unintentional,  accidental  reminders  of  an  old  order, 
the  High  Anglican  school  had  dragged  into  prominence,  and 
in  proportion  as  they  did  so  their  opponents  of  the  Low 
Church  or  Evangelical  school  began  to  desire  that  they 
should  be  eliminated  from  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer.  It 
is  probable  that  these  were  some  of  the  many  things  that 
Phillips  Brooks  thought  might  be  far  from  the  truth.  They 
were  afterwards  known  as  "Romanizing  germs."  There  was 
a  division  among  the  Evangelicals  as  to  the  best  method  to 
be  followed.  Some  said  agitate  for  a  revision  in  order  to 
make  the  Prayer  Book  less  objectionable,  others  said  continue 
to  use  it,  putting  upon  these  unwelcome  phrases  a  truer  inter- 
pretation than  the  words  seemed  to  convey  and  in  better 
harmony  with  the  teaching  of  Scripture.  Among  these  latter 
was  Phillips  Brooks.  He  sympathized  with  the  difficulties 
felt  by  his  co-religionists,  as  we  shall  see  more  fully  here- 
after, but  he  never  became  an  agitator  for  the  revision  of 
the  Prayer  Book. 

There  was  one  point  upon  which  for  a  moment  he  appar- 
ently felt  some  difficulty,  —  the  subject  of  infant  baptism. 
The  difficulty  may  now  seem  remote  and  unreal,  but  at  that 
time  it  constituted  the  crux  of  many  of  the  Evangelicals. 
When  one  turns  it  over  in  connection  with  the  attitude  of  the 
historical  schools  in  the  Episcopal  Church,  its  emergence  as 
a  subject  of  confusion  and  annoyance  is  easily  explained. 
The  High  Church  school,  standing  for  solidarity  as  the  great 
end  to  be  achieved  by  the  church,  found  no  trouble  with 
infant  baptism,  but  rather  emphasized  and  gloried  in  it  as  the 
manifestation  of  the  principle  of  collectivism  when  the  uncon- 
scious child  was  committed  to  its  future  career,  without  its 
knowledge  or  consent,  without  the  faith  and  repentance, 
which  the  rite  seemed  to  demand.  They  spoke  much  of  a 
miraculous  change  wrought  in  the  child  by  the  operation  of 
the  water  conjoined  with  the  action  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  which 


AT.  23]  THE  RETROSPECT  309 

they  called  regeneration.  The  Evangelical  school  stood  for 
individual  freedom,  placing  the  deepest  stress  upon  individual 
faith  as  the  sole  condition  of  conversion.  They  did  not  go  so 
far  as  to  advocate  the  abandonment  of  infant  baptism,  but 
they  denied,  some  of  them  at  least,  the  possibility  of  any 
supernatural  change,  and  regarded  the  baptism  of  the  child 
as  its  dedication  to  God  and  its  admission  into  the  church. 
Others  called  it  a  covenant  between  God  on  one  side  and  the 
parents  and  the  child  on  the  other.  Many  volumes  and 
hundreds  of  tracts  have  been  written  on  this  point,  which 
have  now  lost  their  interest.  What  Phillips  Brooks  came  to 
hold  on  this  subject  may  be  found  in  a  small  treatise  of  his, 
written  in  1880,  on  "Baptism  and  Confirmation."  But  in 
the  year  1859,  as  will  be  seen  from  this  letter,  he  demanded 
some  treatment  of  the  subject,  not  to  be  found  in  the  current 
text-books :  — 

THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY,  February  18, 1859. 

We  've  just  begun  to  study  Hodges  on  Infant  Baptism.  It 
looks  like  a  discouragingly  safe  book,  probing  all  the  sure  points 
conclusively,  and  leaving  a  poor  heretic  like  me  (and  you,  O  Rev.) 
as  rudderless  as  ever  on  all  the  rest.  Did  I  say  I  was  all  right 
on  I.  B.  ?  I  take  it  back. 

Did  you  ever  see  Gresley  on  Preaching?  Get  it,  if  you  want 
the  nearest  finite  approach  to  the  eternal  stupidity. 

It  was  not  without  some  effort  that  he  adjusted  himself  to 
the  time-worn  formularies  of  religious  experience  or  of  the- 
ological opinion.  There  is  no  sign  of  any  violent  reaction 
against  them,  but  there  is  evidence  of  dissatisfaction  with  the 
existing  theological  conditions.  Under  these  circumstances 
he  found  aid  and  comfort  in  the  teaching  of  Dr.  Sparrow,  the 
Professor  of  Theology.  Thus  he  writes  of  him  in  his  second 
year  in  the  seminary :  "  He  is  a  splendid  man,  the  only  real 
live  man  we  have  here,  clear  as  daylight  and  fair  and  candid, 
without  a  particle  of  dogmatism  or  theological  dry  rot." 

Many  years  after,  in  1886,  at  the  request  of  Dr.  Packard, 
one  of  the  professors  in  the  theological  seminary  of  Virginia, 
he  wrote  a  letter  giving  his  impressions  of  Dr.  Sparrow  as  a 
theological  teacher.  The  letter  has  an  autobiographical  value, 
and  may  be  given  here :  — 


3 io  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1859 

SANTA  Ffc,  NEW  MEXICO,  May  0,  1886. 

DEAR  DR.  PACKARD,  —  Your  request  that  I  would  write  you 
some  of  my  impressions  of  Dr.  Sparrow  as  a  teacher  and  a 
preacher  found  me  very  busy  in  Boston,  and  I  have  brought  it 
with  me  to  this  distant  place.  Let  me  try  to  write  something, 
that  I  may  not  seem  to  be  wholly  unmindful  of  your  wish. 

It  is  easy  to  say  of  men  who  have  not  much  accurate  knowledge 
to  impart  that  they  are  men  of  suggestion  and  inspiration.  But 
with  the  doctor  clear  thought  and  real  learning  only  made  the 
suggestion  and  inspiration  of  his  teaching  more  vivid.  I  have 
never  looked  at  Knapp  since  he  taught  us  out  of  it.  My  im- 
pression of  it  is  that  it  is  a  very  dull  and  dreary  book,  but  it 
served  as  a  glass  for  Dr.  Sparrow's  spirit  to  shine  through,  and 
perhaps  from  its  own  insignificance  I  remember  him  more  in  con- 
nection with  it  than  in  connection  with  Butler's  Analogy.  His 
simplicity  and  ignorance  of  the  world  seemed  always  to  let  one 
get  directly  at  the  clearness  of  his  abstract  thought,  and  while  I 
have  always  felt  that  he  had  not  comprehended  the  importance  of 
the  speculative  questions  which  were  just  rising  in  those  days, 
and  which  have  since  then  occupied  men's  minds,  he  unconsciously 
did  much  to  prepare  his  students'  minds  to  meet  them. 

His  intellectual  and  his  spiritual  life  seem  to  me,  as  I  look 
back  upon  him,  to  have  been  mingled  in  singular  harmony  and  to 
have  made  but  one  nature  as  they  do  in  few  men.  The  best 
result  of  his  work  in  influence  on  any  student's  life  and  ministry 
must  have  been  to  save  him  from  the  hardness  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  weakness  on  the  other,  which  purely  intellectual  or  purely 
spiritual  training  would  have  produced.  His  very  presence  on 
the  hill  was  rich  and  salutary.  He  held  his  opinions  and  was 
not  held  by  them.  This  personality  impressed  young  men  who 
were  just  at  that  point  in  life  when  a  thinker  is  more  to  them 
than  the  results  of  thought,  because  it  is  of  more  importance  that 
they  should  learn  to  think,  and  not  that  they  should  merely  justify 
their  adherence  to  their  inherited  creed. 

With  all  his  great  influence  I  fancy  that  he  did  not  make  young 
men  his  imitators.  There  has  been  no  crop  of  little  Dr.  Spar- 
rows. That  shows,  I  think,  the  reality  and  healthiness  of  his 
power.  The  church  since  his  day  has  had  its  host  of  little  dog- 
matists, who  thought  that  God  had  given  his  truth  to  them  to 
keep,  and  of  little  ritualists,  who  thought  that  God  had  bidden 
them  save  the  world  by  drill.  Certainly  Dr.  Sparrow  is  not  re- 
sponsible for  any  of  them.  He  did  all  he  could  to  enlarge  and 
enlighten  both.  He  loved  ideas,  and  did  all  that  he  could  to 
make  his  students  love  them. 


MT.  23]  THE  RETROSPECT  311 

As  to  his  preaching,  I  have  not  very  clear  impressions.  I 
remember  that  his  sermons  sometimes  seemed  to  us  to  be  remark- 
able, but  I  imagine  that  a  theological  student  is  one  of  the  poorest 
judges  of  sermons,  and  that  the  doctor  had  preached  too  much  to 
students  to  allow  him  to  be  the  most  effective  and  powerful 
preacher  to  men. 

Upon  the  whole  he  is  one  of  the  three  or  four  men  whom  I 
have  known  whom  I  look  upon  with  perpetual  gratitude  for  the 
help  and  direction  which  they  have  given  to  my  life,  and  whose 
power  I  feel  in  forms  of  action  and  kinds  of  thought  very  dif- 
ferent from  those  in  which  I  had  specially  to  do  with  them. 

I  am  sure  that  very  many  students  would  say  the  same  of  Dr. 
Sparrow. 

I  hope  that  you  are  well  and  happy,  and  I  am,  dear  Dr. 
Packard,  Faithfully  yours, 

PHILLIPS  BROOKS. 

Whatever  help  by  way  of  suggestion  and  inspiration  was 
afforded  by  Dr.  Sparrow,1  yet  the  ultimate  solution  of  theo- 
logical problems  was  made  by  Phillips  Brooks  himself  and  in 
his  own  distinctive  manner.  These  extracts  from  his  note- 
book convey  hints  of  the  constructive  process  through  which 
his  mind  was  passing.  The  first  was  written  soon  after  he 
reached  the  seminary,  and  is  dated  December  18,  1856 :  — 

After  all  the  young  man's  chafing  at  the  constraint,  we  shall 
pretty  generally  find  that  it  is  with  theories  as  with  country 
roads,  they  may  take  us  a  little  out  of  our  way,  but  if  they  reach 
our  point  at  last,  it  will  be  the  easiest  and  altogether  the  shortest 
way  to  keep  by  them,  gaining,  in  the  smoothness  and  pleasantness 
which  the  road-builders  have  made  ready  for  us,  much  more  than 
we  lose  by  not  taking  a  straight  line  across  rough  new  fields  and 
through  thick  woods  and  over  unbridged  swamps  and  streams  all 
along  the  way.  True,  no  road  must  take  us  from  our  aim  and 
end ;  but  to  most  points  of  human  interest,  or  moral  duty,  or  of 
mental  worth  we  can  find  at  least  a  footpath  where  some  toiling 
traveller  has  broken  his  way  before ;  and  here  and  there  perhaps 
has  cast  aside  a  stone  or  broken  off  a  wayward  bough  that  those 
who  afterwards  should  follow  him  might  find  the  way  more  easy 
or  more  straight. 

1  Cf .  Walker's  Memorials  of  Dr.  Sparrow,  1876,  for  much  interesting  infor- 
mation concerning  him. 


3 12  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859 

It  is  a  noble  and  beautiful  thing  to  feel  ourselves  growing  out 
of  our  own  contempts;  to  recognize  each  day  that  something 
which  we  have  been  weakly  despising  as  mean  and  poor  is  high 
and  pure  and  rich  in  worth  and  beauty. 

There  was  another  thought  much  in  his  mind  and  finding 
frequent  expression,  which  was  to  become  one  of  his  ruling 
ideas,  —  that  truth  had  many  aspects,  that  what  failed  to 
bring  one  man  strength  or  consolation  might  to  another  be 
the  source  of  joy  and  peace.  To  condemn  another  man's 
belief  or  to  sneer  at  it  was  madness :  — 

Poor  feeble  creatures  in  a  feeble  world,  we  each  must  catch 
what  is  most  comfort  to  his  feebleness.  Believe  in  mine  for  me; 
I  will  believe  in  yours  for  you.  Surely  we  each  have  quite  enough 
to  do  to  hold  our  own,  without  this  cruel  folly  of  saying  to  an- 
other, "Your  comfort  is  a  cheat,  your  hope  a  heresy,  the  earnest 
life  that  you  are  living  all  a  lie."  If  you  can  give  him  something 
better,  do  it  in  God's  name.  If  you  can  only  sneer  away  his 
peace  and  pleasure  you  belie  your  manhood  when  you  do  it. 

Surely  we  might  make  more  allowance  for  the  roads  we  walk 
in  if  the  great  ends  we  aim  at  are  the  same.  Our  paths  through 
life  are  like  the  great  tracks  men  map  out  on  the  seas.  They  say 
they  go  the  same  way  that  the  ships  of  old  have  gone ;  they  mean 
they  seek  the  same  harbor,  round  the  same  headlands,  shun  the 
same  quicksands,  read  the  same  silent  constant  stars.  But  the 
waves  they  plough  have  changed  a  myriad  times ;  the  great  unrest 
or  circumstance  has  broken  into  confusion  the  unquiet  road  they 
travel,  but  they  call  it  still  the  same,  because  by  the  same  great 
eternal  sureties,  it  points  them  to  the  same  old  haven.  So  by 
the  sure  witness  of  faith  we  pass  over  the  restless  path  of  human 
accident  to  the  great  truth  harbor  that  we  seek. 

You  have  a  rock  down  somewhere  in  your  soul,  and  that  is  the 
rock  for  you  to  build  on.  Beware  how  you  borrow  a  fragment  of 
some  other  man's  and  plant  it  on  your  sandy  places  and  try  to 
build  on  that.  Dig  deep,  dig  well,  dig  till  you  find  the  proper 
basis  of  your  own  strength. 

These  extracts  may  prepare  the  way  for  coming  still  closer 
to  his  religious  experience  and  to  his  theological  attitude. 
The  supreme  effort  which  he  was  making,  which  threw  also 


MT.  23]  THE  RETROSPECT  313 

into  the  shade  all  other  difficulties,  was  to  trace  the  connec- 
tion between  ideas  and  principles,  theories  and  theological 
distinctions,  —  the  connection  between  these  and  the  actual 
life  of  the  human  soul;  to  show  how  they  ministered  to  the 
growth  of  a  man  in  righteousness  of  character.  Confronted 
as  he  was  with  doctrines  and  dogmas,  whose  acceptance  was 
regarded  as  important,  he  asked  for  their  nexus  with  the 
human  will,  or  with  the  reason  and  the  feeling  that  led  as 
motives  to  the  action  of  the  will.  In  his  impatience  and 
weariness,  when  no  answer  was  forthcoming,  it  was  not  to  be 
wondered  at  that  he  should  think  of  much  of  this  material 
imposed  upon  him  as  "theological  dry  rot,"  useless  and  cum- 
bersome because  without  life  or  relation  to  life.  He  heard, 
as  we  have  seen,  much  from  his  teachers  about  the  sin  of  intel- 
lectual pride  and  how  it  was  necessary  to  subject  the  intellect 
to  the  obedience  of  Christ.  He  took  up  the  challenge,  and 
in  so  doing  reversed  the  position.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the 
sin  of  intellectual  pride  lay  in  holding  theories  and  opinions 
which  could  show,  and  aimed  to  show,  no  organic  relation  with 
Christ  as  the  Saviour  of  the  soul  and  redeemer  of  the  world. 
At  this  point  it  was  well  for  him  that  he  was  called  by  the 
routine  of  seminary  teaching  to  look  into  these  theories  and 
doctrines  for  himself,  ascertain  their  real  meaning,  and  if 
possible  draw  from  them  some  nourishment  for  his  soul's 
health.  It  was  sometimes  said  of  him  in  after  life,  by  those 
who  professed  to  be  theologians,  that  he  seemed  to  be  almost 
color  blind  to  theological  distinctions,  as  though  he  had  some 
inborn  deficiency  for  recognizing  the  value  of  theology  as 
such,  some  native  incapacity  for  making  a  plain  and  satisfac- 
tory theological  statement.  The  criticism,  it  may  be  said  here 
in  passing,  was  without  foundation.  It  would  be  more  true 
to  speak  of  him  as  a  theologian,  versed  in  the  intricacies  of 
theology  as  a  system,  knowing  his  way  easily  from  one  de- 
partment to  another.  So  well  was  he  indoctrinated  that  he 
made  no  technical  mistakes ;  never  contradicted  any  formal 
teaching  of  creeds  or  articles  or  formularies;  never  erred 
through  ignorance,  or  made  a  theological  blunder;  never 
asserted  as  a  new  truth  what  had  been  condemned  by  any 


3i4  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1859 

reputable  authority  as  untrue.  He  was  quite  aware  of  his 
proficiency  in  this  respect,  little  as  he  may  have  valued  it. 
When  his  friend  Dr.  Vinton  once  remonstrated  with  him, 
urging  him  to  read  more  of  the  old  writers  in  theology,  —  it 
was  after  he  had  won  fame  as  a  preacher,  —  he  replied  that 
he  knew  beforehand  all  that  they  had  to  say. 

The  evidence  for  the  truth  of  these  statements,  apart  from 
that  contained  in  his  published  writings,  is  shown  in  the 
work  he  did  in  the  theological  seminary  of  Virginia.  He 
was  a  diligent  student  of  ecclesiastical  history,  with  such  aids 
as  he  could  command,  with  an  eye  to  the  meaning  of  events, 
but  more  particularly  interested  in  the  history  of  Christian 
doctrines.  There  remain  a  number  of  his  essays  written  at 
the  seminary  which  bear  witness  to  his  insight,  the  value  and 
maturity  of  his  judgments.  Everything  that  he  touched  in 
the  line  of  history  shows  the  exquisite  balance  of  a  sound  com- 
mon sense,  —  that  rarest  of  gifts.  Among  them  are  essays 
on  the  church  at  Alexandria,  and  on  the  schism  between  the 
Greek  and  the  Latin  churches.  Slight  as  these  essays  were, 
they  still  record  his  independent  judgment ;  they  have  force 
and  directness,  and  they  have  that  peculiar  stamp  which 
marks  them  as  his,  so  that  we  would  recognize  them  as  his  by 
the  tone  of  thought  and  style.  The  essays  he  wrote  on  the 
style  of  the  New  Testament  Greek,  and  on  the  prevalence  of 
the  Greek  language  in  the  time  of  Christ,  show  the  capacity 
of  a  scholar.  He  put  under  contribution  to  these  tasks  his 
classical  reading,  in  which  he  made  further  independent 
research,  going  to  the  sources.  He  made  also  preparation 
for  an  elaborate  study  of  the  Fourth  Eclogue  of  Virgil,  which 
speaks  of  the  promised  Child,  for  whom  the  months  are  wait- 
ing, for  whom  the  earth  purifies  itself  to  give  him  welcome. 
He  made  out  an  extensive  list  of  the  literature  of  the  sub- 
ject, the  ancient  Fathers,  the  commentators  on  Virgil,  theolo- 
gical writers  from  the  sixteenth  century  down,  many  of  them 
obscure,  but  none  unimportant  for  a  thorough  investigation. 
When  we  read  these  things,  one  is  almost  tempted  to  think 
that  he  would  have  shone  as  a  scholar  more  than  as  a  preacher. 
They  have  the  promise  of  great  results. 


.  23]  THE  RETROSPECT  315 

But  it  is  the  theological  essays  which  he  wrote  that  are 
most  important,  as  showing  his  peculiar  gift  of  theological 
insight  and  interpretation.  The  list  of  subjects  indicates 
to  some  extent  the  range  of  his  inquiries,  —  Theories  of 
Causation,  the  Doctrine  of  the  Fall,  the  Incarnation,  the 
Creeds,  the  Articles,  the  Sacraments,  and  one  essay  in  par- 
ticular which  seeks  to  answer  the  question  why  Christianity, 
seeing  that  it  possesses  such  complete  internal  and  external 
evidence,  should  not  have  taken  a  stronger  hold  upon  the 
world.  His  answer  is  characteristic,  that  it  has  done  and 
is  still  doing  all  that  could  have  been  expected  from  it,  so 
that  the  result  of  its  working  in  the  world  confirms  its 
divine  origin  and  gives  it  the  promise  of  the  future.  In 
these  essays  on  theological  subjects  it  is  noteworthy  that 
he  finds  no  difficulty  with  the  miracle.  That  question  was 
already  in  the  air,  —  scientific  men,  literary  and  religious 
writers  in  England  and  America,  scholars  in  Germany  and 
France,  the  world's  "freethinkers"  as  they  were  called, 
having  already  abandoned  the  miracle,  as  incapable  of  proof, 
or  as  impossible  in  the  nature  of  things,  or  as  a  discredited 
superstition.  But  there  is  not  only  no  trace  that  he  was 
haunted  by  misgivings  on  this  point ;  there  seems,  on  the  con- 
trary, evidence  that  he  built  on  the  miracle  as  the  foundation 
of  much  of  his  enthusiasm.  Nor  is  this  surprising  in  view 
of  his  enthusiasm  for  humanity,  since  the  miracle  stood  to 
him  for  the  greatness  of  humanity,  for  the  impossible  deeds 
that  it  will  attempt  and  perform.  On  this  point  he  never 
changed  his  conviction. 

These  theological  essays  must  have  satisfied  the  heart  of 
Dr.  Sparrow.  They  reflected  the  Evangelical  teaching  he  had 
received,  and  no  fault  could  have  been  found  with  any  utter- 
ance that  he  made.  Dr.  Sparrow  is  said  to  have  remarked 
that  he  recognized  in  him  a  pupil  who  needed  none  of  his 
instruction.  He  had  indeed  been  grounded  in  these  things 
under  the  tuition  of  his  mother  and  of  Dr.  Vinton ;  but  Dr. 
Sparrow's  influence  may  be  also  seen,  holding  him  to  a 
rational  inquiry  into  their  deeper  meaning.  Thus  he  seems 
to  have  freely  accepted  the  leading  truths  which  are  known  as 


316  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859 

Evangelical.  He  finds  that  the  Thirty -Nine  Articles  revolve 
around  the  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith  as  their  central 
theme,  and  that  the  errors  which  the  Articles  condemn  spring 
from  their  denial  of  this  central  conviction.  The  Articles 
are  not  a  string  of  fragmentary  utterances,  but  are  grouped 
into  unity  by  a  great  common  belief.  He  studied  the  deeper 
issues  of  the  Pauline  theology,  —  the  distinction  between 
gospel  and  law,  —  asking  anew  for  the  purpose  served  by  the 
law,  and  why  it  was  that  Jewish  and  Christian  churches 
should  be  tempted  by  the  shallowness  of  the  Pelagian  heresy. 
He  writes  on  the  propitiatory  sacrifice  of  Christ,  taking  for 
a  text  the  words  of  Bishop  Butler  and  confirming  their  truth : 
"By  the  general  prevalence  of  propitiatory  sacrifices  over 
the  heathen  world,  the  notion  of  repentance  alone  being 
sufficient  to  expiate  guilt  appears  to  be  contrary  to  the 
general  sense  of  mankind." 

But  in  all  these  essays,  while  he  reaches  and  maintains  the 
accepted  positions,  yet  there  is  a  difference  of  tone  and  of 
emphasis,  a  quality  which  is  his  own.  He  searches  for  anal- 
ogies in  heathen  thought,  and  in  the  experience  of  the  pre- 
Christian  world,  until  he  felt  sure  that  ruling  ideas  in  Chris- 
tian theology  must  in  their  origin  have  struck  their  roots  in 
the  life  and  confession  of  humanity,  uncontrolled  by  an  ex- 
ternal conventional  authority.  Not  only  in  regard  to  the 
idea  of  sacrifice,  but  of  the  doctrines  of  the  fall  and  of  the 
incarnation,  does  it  hold  true  that  they  were  believed  by  the 
race  of  man ;  and  especially  was  the  Incarnation  —  the  union 
of  God  with  man  in  some  divine  human  being  —  longed  for 
and  earnestly  desired,  even  anticipated  in  crude  ways  in  the 
heathen  world.  As  such,  these  doctrines  form  part  of  the 
necessary  experience  of  man;  they  reveal  the  characteristic 
essence  of  the  human  soul ;  they  are  not  the  badges  of  bond- 
age, but  the  conditions  of  human  freedom,  by  which  the  race 
has  risen  to  the  realization  of  its  divine  heritage. 

Again,  he  takes  up  the  subject  of  creeds.  He  speaks  of 
the  protest  against  them  by  so  large  a  part  of  the  religious 
intelligence  of  the  country  on  the  ground  that  they  are  merely 
fetters  of  the  intellect,  that  they  hinder  mental  liberty  and 


MI.  23]  THE  RETROSPECT  317 

progress.  He  admits  that  they  have  been  abused  among  the 
cold  intellectual  races  of  the  north,  creating  a  kind  of  intel- 
lectual idolatry  quite  as  far  astray  as  the  sensual  image  wor- 
ship of  the  southern  races.  But  he  does  not  think  this 
danger  is  so  great  as  some  picture  it.  The  presentation  of 
truth  in  clear  and  sharply  defined  propositions,  as  in  a  creed, 
has  a  value  for  the  mind  in  its  first  activity.  It  satisfies  a 
certain  human  natural  desire  for  clearness,  and  overcomes 
the  natural  distrust  of  vagueness.  "  Without  the  creed  each 
man  must  have  the  original  force  in  himself  to  select  and 
build  his  own  position,  deriving  no  help  from  others'  previous 
endeavors,  with  no  historical  ground  to  build  upon  and  no 
historical  support  to  look  to.  It  is  demanding  of  ordinary 
minds  an  originality  which  we  have  no  right  to  presuppose." 
But  even  granting  that  men  had  this  ability,  yet  the  rejection 
of  the  creeds  "is  taking  out  of  truth  the  social  elements  that 
God  in  setting  up  his  church  infused  so  strongly  in  it." 

The  most  liberal  Christianity  among  us,  — practically  what 
have  we  seen  its  rejection  of  formal  confessions  of  faith  amount 
to  ?  Its  masses,  its  men  that  correspond  to  those  who  in  the  style 
of  much-abused  servility  give  in  their  matter-of-course  assent  to 
old  systems  of  doctrine,  have  simply  rejected  that  assent,  to  say 
as  servilely  and  with  quite  as  little  candid  judgment,  "I  believe 
in  this  or  that  preacher  or  divine."  Servility  has  been  trans- 
ferred from  systems  to  individuals,  and  liberality  has  but  bound 
the  new  freeman  in  a  closer  and  more  unquestioning  adherence  to 
his  sect  or  some  traditional  leader  of  that  sect.  A  creed  does  for 
theology  what  the  balance  did  for  chemistry,  it  changes  it  from 
pure  guesswork  to  a  science.  It  does  not  give  doctrines  less  or 
greater  weight.  It  only  puts  them  into  shape  and  lets  us  see 
really  what  their  weight  among  men  is.  There  may  be  false 
balances  and  true  ones,  but  the  general  notion  of  the  balance,  the 
weighing  of  quantity  by  laws  derived  from  their  own  peculiar 
nature,  is  one  that  we  cannot  throw  away  without  going  back  to 
guesswork,  which  is  itself  but  a  system  of  balances  false  in  an 
infinite  variety. 

It  is  important  to  mention  these  theological  essays  by 
Phillips  Brooks,  for  they  represent  an  element  in  his  train- 
ing. They  were  required  tasks,  to  be  sure,  in  a  field  where 


3i8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1859 

his  native  interest  did  not  lie.  But  he  could  do  these  things 
and  do  them  well,  when  he  strove  even  better  than  most. 
Still  the  temper  of  his  mind  was  undogmatic.  He  did  not 
reject  dogma,  but  he  found  little  place  for  it  in  the  pulpit. 
He  could  sympathize  with  those  who  disowned  it,  for  they  did 
so  because  it  seemed  without  connection  with  life.  When- 
ever he  touched  dogma,  it  was  to  connect  it  with  life.  But 
that  large  body  of  religious  opinions  which  exists  as  a  world 
by  itself,  the  object  of  an  antiquarian's  curiosity,  he  left  to 
itself,  and  passed  by  quickly  on  the  other  side. 

There  is  another  reason  why  it  was  well  for  Phillips  Brooks 
that  he  went  to  the  theological  seminary  in  Virginia,  rather 
than  elsewhere,  to  make  his  preparation  for  the  ministry. 
He  might  have  gone  to  other  schools  holding  the  same  theo- 
logy, but  at  Virginia  he  received  the  Evangelical  influence 
in  its  purest,  but  also  in  its  most  intense  form.  For  one 
most  distinctive  external  mark  of  that  peculiar  type  of 
religious  culture  was  the  stress  it  placed  upon  the  feelings 
and  the  emotions.  This  was  the  characteristic  by  which 
it  was  known  in  the  Episcopal  Church.  Among  the  colder 
and  more  reserved  people  of  New  England,  religious  devo- 
tion and  the  abandon  of  the  pious  instincts  were  in  com- 
parative abeyance  as  contrasted  with  the  warmth  and  depth 
of  religious  devotion  in  the  South.  Into  this  atmosphere 
Phillips  Brooks  was  suddenly  plunged  when  he  found  himself 
in  the  Virginia  seminary.  He  has  left  on  record  the  first 
impression  he  received  and  the  inference  he  drew  for  his 
guidance : — 

I  shall  never  forget  my  first  experience  of  s  divinity  school. 
I  had  come  from  a  college  where  men  studied  hard,  but  said 
nothing  about  faith.  I  had  never  been  at  a  prayer  meeting  in 
my  life.  The  first  place  I  was  taken  to  at  the  seminary  was  the 
prayer  meeting;  and  never  shall  I  lose  the  impression  of  the 
devoutness  with  which  these  men  prayed  and  exhorted  one  another. 
Their  whole  souls  seemed  exalted  and  their  natures  were  on  fire. 
I  sat  bewildered  and  ashamed  and  went  away  depressed.  On  the 
next  day,  I  met  some  of  those  men  at  a  Greek  recitation.  It 
would  be  little  to  say  of  some  of  the  devoutest  of  them  that  they 


.  23]  THE  RETROSPECT  319 

had  not  learned  their  lessons.  Their  whole  way  showed  that  they 
never  learned  their  lessons;  that  they  had  not  got  hold  of  the 
first  principles  of  hard,  faithful,  conscientious  study.  The  boiler 
had  no  connection  with  the  engine.  The  devotion  did  not  touch 
the  work  which  then  and  there  was  the  work,  and  the  only  work, 
for  them  to  do.  By  and  by,  I  found  something  of  where  the 
steam  did  escape  to.  A  sort  of  amateur  preaching  was  much  in 
vogue  among  us.  We  were  in  haste  to  be  at  what  we  called  our 
work.  A  feeble  twilight  of  the  coming  ministry  we  lived  in. 
The  people  in  the  neighborhood  dubbed  us  parsonettes.1 

To  combine  the  highest  and  the  broadest  intellectual  cul- 
ture with  the  warmest  devotion  of  the  heart  became  from 
this  moment  a  constitutive  element  in  the  ideal  of  Phillips 
Brooks ;  in  other  words,  to  reconcile  the  theology  of  the  in- 
tellect with  the  theology  of  the  feelings.  He  accepted  the 
prayer  meeting,  and  the  prayer  meeting  left  its  permanent 
impression  upon  him.  It  helped  to  overcome  that  reserve 
which,  however  invincible  in  his  relation  with  individuals, 
disappeared  entirely  when  he  went  into  the  pulpit.  No 
preacher  ever  poured  forth  the  content  of  his  soul  to  a  con- 
gregation more  fully  than  he;  it  may  be  doubted  if  in  this 
respect  he  was  ever  surpassed  in  the  history  of  preaching. 
But  the  first  steps  towards  this  emancipation  of  himself  from 
himself  were  learned  in  the  prayer  meeting.  One  of  his 
fellow  students  could  bear  this  testimony  about  him :  — 

Another  more  sacred  thought  of  him  goes  back  to  the  class 
prayer  meeting,  held  each  week  in  one  of  our  rooms.  We  had 
never  heard  such  prayers,  so  fervent,  trustful,  simple,  so  full  of 
what  we  should  not  have  guessed  was  in  him  till  he  testified 
beside  us  on  his  knees.  He  had  learned  a  lesson  which  the  books 
could  not  teach,  worth  more  to  him  and  to  those  he  knelt  with, 
then  and  afterwards,  than  the  cultured  scholarship  he  brought 
from  Harvard,  or  the  systematic  theology  (more  or  less  of  it)  that 
Alexandria  gave  us.  When  he  stood  on  the  steps  of  Independence 
Hall  at  the  close  of  the  war,  with  the  bowed  multitude  before  him, 
and  again  in  the  great  tent  in  Cambridge  on  Commemoration 
Day  (vivid  memories  both  to  me),  the  many  realized,  as  the  few 
in  the  class  meetings  did,  part  of  the  truth  of  a  character  which 

1  Lecture  on  Preaching,  delivered  before  the  Yale  Divinity  School,  1877, 
p.  44. 


PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1859 

has  left  a  deeper  impress  on  minds  and  hearts  than  any  other  of 
our  land  and  time.1 

These  verses  from  his  note-book,  the  very  first  entry  made 
after  reaching  the  seminary,  are  his  comment  on  the  impres- 
sion received  at  the  first  prayer  meeting,  when  he  witnessed 
the  outburst  of  Christian  feeling  as  never  before :  — 

For  feeling  is  a  teacher;  every  dream 

That  makes  us  purer  makes  us  wiser  too, 
And  every  beauty  coming  on  a  beam 

Of  God's  sweet  sunlight  brings  new  truth  to  view. 

And  feeling  is  a  worker;  at  the  base 

Of  earth's  deep  action,  lies  earth's  deeper  thought; 
And  lower  still  than  thought  is  feeling's  place 

Which  heaves  the  whole  mass  duly  as  it  ought. 

There  comes  a  culture  out  of  this  religious  life.  From  the 
silent  Bible-reading,  from  the  heart's  meeting  with  the  wonders 
of  the  life  divine,  there  comes  a  trueness  and  fineness,  a  manli- 
ness and  a  womanliness  that  courts  can  never  give. 

This  endowment  of  our  nature  which  we  call  feeling  —  a 
word  which  has  no  synonym  and  for  which  there  is  no  substi- 
tute—  had  come  to  Phillips  Brooks  by  inheritance  in  an  ex- 
traordinary degree.  It  was  a  talent  which  he  improved  and 
employed  to  the  utmost,  but  it  was  originally  given  him  by 
free  grace  as  to  the  man  that  had  already  ten  talents.  Only 
one  who  has  had  the  privilege  of  poring  over  his  mother's 
letters  to  her  son  can  realize  how  rich  and  wonderful  was  the 
gift  she  had  transmitted.  His  father  wrote  to  him  when  he 
had  important  news  to  communicate,  and  very  interesting  his 
letters  were.  But  the  mother  wrote  when  her  heart  was  full 
to  overflowing,  and  was  impelled  to  pour  forth  her  love.  Her 
letters  are  very  much  alike,  for  words  failed  her  to  express 
adequately  the  depth  and  intensity  of  her  emotion.  Very 
simple  sometimes  and  beautifully  familiar  do  her  sentences 

1  The  Rev.  George  Augustus  Strong  in  Remembrances  of  Phillips  Broolu  by 
Two  of  his  Friends,  p.  54.  Rev.  C.  A.  L.  Richards  also  adds :  "  His  piety  WM 
real,  but  not  demonstrative.  When  he  offered  prayer  at  any  of  our  meetings 
you  could  not  but  feel  that  God  was  very  near  and  living  to  him  "  (p.  11). 


AT.  23]  THE  RETROSPECT  321 

sound,  —  the  language  of  a  mother's  love  which  knows  no 
bound.  She  longed  for  him,  she  thought  of  him  every  hour 
and  minute  of  the  day,  she  counted  the  weeks  and  the  days 
till  she  should  see  him ;  sometimes  she  was  so  impatient  that 
she  feared  that  she  could  not  wait  for  his  coming,  but  must 
fly  to  him.  It  was  this  element  in  Phillips  Brooks  that 
formed  one  large  constituent  in  the  secret  of  his  strength. 
Those  who  knew  him  can  bear  witness  to  the  truth  of  this 
statement  that  his  capacity  for  deep  feeling  was  like  the 
ocean  in  its  majesty ;  ideas,  experiences,  the  forces  of  life, 
that  appealed  to  him  roused  him  as  a  whirlwind,  in  waves 
of  inevitable  power,  and  feeling  became  a  torment  until  it 
had  found  expression.  But  this  feeling  found  its  freest 
expression  in  the  pulpit  alone,  going  forth  to  the  great 
congregation. 

This  vast  capacity  and  power  of  feeling  upon  which  the 
world  of  human  life  in  all  its  scope  and  variety  was  always 
playing,  as  upon  some  mighty  organ,  quick  also  to  respond 
to  the  slightest  touch,  was  seen  in  his  power  of  prayer,  awing 
the  souls  that  listened,  and  was  something  exceptional  in 
the  manifestation  of  a  human  soul.  But  it  is  characteristic 
of  his  note-books  that  they  contain  no  formal  utterance  of 
prayer,  such  as  had  been  customary  in  the  religious  journals 
of  his  ancestors.  He  did  not  write  down  a  petition.  It  would 
have  been  for  him  unnatural  and  artificial.  Such  things 
must  be  reserved  for  the  living  moment.  Yet  as  we  read 
these  notes,  intended  for  no  eye  but  his  own,  they  sound  like 
one  who  is  thinking  in  the  presence  of  God  and  with  the 
sense  of  divine  communion. 

It  was  here  that  poetry  came  to  his  relief.  He  made  it  a 
rule  not  to  let  a  day  pass  without  writing  verse.  Most  of  it 
he  wrote,  as  has  been  remarked,  rapidly,  without  revision,  not 
putting  much  thought  into  it,  but  using  it  as  the  vehicle  and 
outlet  of  his  feelings.  For  the  most  part  it  became  the  ex- 
pression of  the  simple  human  emotion  in  view  of  the  ordinary 
operations  of  the  natural  world,  —  the  emotions  that  all  men 
feel,  but  by  which  he  was  so  impressed  as  to  feel  the  need 
of  utterance.  It  was  the  sign  of  recognition,  of  responding 


PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1859 

love  or  gratitude  or  joy.  At  the  critical  points  of  his  life  his 
aroused  feelings  turned  to  poetry,  as  the  adequate  setting  of 
his  inward  mood.  When  he  left  the  Latin  School  for  col- 
lege, he  wrote  a  poem,  and  again  when  he  was  leaving  Har- 
vard. When  he  read  great  books  he  was  moved  to  poetry. 
When  he  finished  his  first  sermon,  he  left  on  record  a  poem, 
or  rather  a  hymn,  and  the  hymn  is  the  form  which  his 
prayer  assumed :  — 

And  so  this  sermon  is  my  first; 

At  last  my  hand  has  grasped  the  plough; 
And  all  my  life,  or  blest  or  curst, 

Is  opening  wide  before  me  now. 

Well,  let  it  come.     With  bended  head 

I  turn  this  sermon  to  a  prayer ; 
Lord,  thou  hast  marked  my  path  to  tread, 

0  go  with  me  and  help  me  there. 

In  thy  strength,  not  in  mine  I  stand, 
Thy  words  and  not  mine  own  I  speak, 

In  thee  my  weakness  waxeth  grand 
And  I  am  strong  that  was  so  weak. 

So  pass  this  sermon  if  it  must; 

1  think  it  pleads  the  truth  of  God. 
I  pray  some  soul  may  gather  trust 

To  tread  the  path  the  Saviour  trod. 

Let  other  sermons  follow  too, 

My  way  is  marked,  my  path  is  clear,  — 

A  hope  to  win,  a  work  to  do, 

In  strength  of  faith,  in  spite  of  fear. 

O  God,  whose  name  my  soul  has  named, 
O  make  them  pure  and  all  thine  own, 

That  so  I  may  not  be  ashamed 

When  I  shall  stand  before  thy  throne. 
October,  1858. 

Phillips  Brooks  was  profoundly  impressed  with  the  mis- 
sionary spirit  which  prevailed  among  the  students  at  Alex- 
andria as  nowhere  else  to  an  equal  extent  in  the  Episcopal 


ALT.  23]  THE   RETROSPECT  323 

Church  at  that  time.  Since  1835  the  graduates  of  the 
seminary  had  begun  to  go  forth  to  foreign  lands,  Bishop 
Boone  to  China,  Bishop  Payne  to  Africa,  Dr.  Hill  to  Greece, 
till  fifty -five  years  later  there  were  enrolled  over  thirty  mis- 
sionaries. The  history  of  missions  knows  of  no  greater  sacri- 
fices or  loftier  heroism  than  is  recalled  to  the  Virginia 
seminary  by  its  martyrs  for  Christ.  Especially  the  mission 
on  the  west  coast  of  Africa  meant  an  almost  certain  early 
death,  or  else  permanent  injury  to  the  health,  to  all  who  ven- 
tured into  its  pestilential  climate.  But  as  devoted  men  fell, 
others  rose  up  to  follow  them.  Almost  every  year  witnessed 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  students  carried  to  the  highest  point  as 
they  bade  farewell  to  classmates.  It  was  so  with  the  class  of 
which  Phillips  Brooks  was  a  member.  His  diary  shows  how 
deeply  he  was  moved,  as  also  a  hymn  written  for  the  occasion 
of  the  departure  of  a  friend  for  China.  If  the  call  had  come 
to  him  it  would  have  satisfied  the  aspirations  of  his  mother, 
who  never  wearied  of  holding  up  the  examples  of  great 
missionaries  to  her  children,  as  the  noblest  the  world  could 
offer.  But  the  Spirit  called  him  to  another  work,  where 
heroism  and  self-sacrifice  were  to  be  illustrated,  before  his 
life  was  over,  in  ways  as  real  and  potential  as  those  of  the 
missionary  in  a  foreign  land.  There  is  no  gradation  in  these 
things  of  a  more  or  less  divine,  of  a  lower  or  a  greater  glory 
of  God.  One  cannot  help  reflecting  that  if  Phillips  Brooks 
had  become  a  foreign  missionary,  to  Africa  for  example,  fol- 
lowing in  the  steps  of  Hoffman  or  Minor  or  Savage,  what  an 
incalculable  loss  the  church  would  have  suffered.  And  yet 
foreign  missions  remain  the  most  striking  test  of  the  reality 
of  the  life  and  faith  of  a  church.  It  was  the  crowning  glory 
of  the  Evangelical  school  in  the  Episcopal  Church  that  it 
was  the  first  to  recognize  and  respond  to  this  test  of  a  living 
faith. 

The  intellectual  part  of  his  being  was  in  the  ascendency 
during  these  years  in  Alexandria.  But  his  intellectual 
strength  is  so  fused  with  emotion  that  they  seem  to  merge  into 
one.  The  profound  and  subtle  mind  with  its  flashes  of  in- 
sight penetrating  to  the  core  of  things  and  lighting  up  the 


3a4  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1859 

obscure  corners  of  existence  was  indebted  for  its  power  to 
the  feeling  which  gave  him  an  universal  human  sympathy. 
He  came  into  knowledge  through  sympathy,  and  feeling 
was  a  source  of  knowing,  for  it  enabled  him  to  enter  into 
experiences,  not  his  own  in  one  sense,  but  to  become  his  own 
through  the  power  of  imagination.  No  experience  of  human- 
ity was  alien  to  him. 

But  he  had  not  yet  sounded  the  lowest  depths  of  his  soul, 
or  yet  fully  realized  the  greatness  of  his  purpose.  He  saw 
vistas  before  him,  endless  in  their  long  drawn-out  mystery, 
to  whose  furthest  limit  he  had  not  yet  reached.  He  hints  at 
them,  in  the  daily  remarks  he  confides  to  his  note-book. 
What  he  wants  is  some  principle  of  unity;  he  is  still  haunted 
with  the  unpossessed  secret  process  by  which  intellect  and 
feeling  shall  be  transmuted  into  fuel  for  the  will.  He  has 
visions  of  Christ  in  some  moment  of  transfiguration,  and 
would  fain  penetrate  more  closely  into  the  strange  bewilder- 
ing mystery  of  his  power. 

There  is  the  old  city  child's  difficulty  in  thinking  of  his  city 
as  a  whole.  He  knows  this  street  and  that  street,  but  never 
recognizes  the  organic  town  standing  surrounded  by  others  like  it, 
acting  as  an  individual  with  concrete  purposes  and  thoughts.  I 
do  not  know  that  other  children  have  this  difficulty,  but  it  always 
troubled  me.  And  there  is  something  of  the  same  kind,  I  think, 
to  most  of  the  minds  new  born  into  the  world  of  thought  when 
they  try  to  conceive  of  each  man's  separate  life. 

There  comes  out  to  this  truth  not  the  great  and  grand  and 
mighty,  but,  as  they  came  when  Jesus  was  to  pass,  the  poor  and 
halt  and  blind.  Now  and  then  its  ministers,  like  the  disciples  in 
the  Gospel,  would  order  the  clamorous  suppliants  away,  but  the 
Christ  voice  speaks  as  then,  "Let  them  come,  for  to  them  I  was 
sent ;  "  and  the  gracious  hand  is  outstretched  and  the  healing 
done. 


There  is  something  holier  and  stronger  and  more  immortal, 
something  harder  to  conceive  of,  harder  far  to  reach,  that  lies 
back  of  hope,  and  faith,  and  fear,  and  reverence,  and  love.  As 
behind  the  sun,  and  clouds,  and  silent  stars,  lies  the  great 
eternity  of  space,  so  behind  this  man's  or  that  man's  living,  or 


.  23]  THE  RETROSPECT  325 

thinking,  or  enjoying,  lies  the  immensity  of  life,  that  we  try  to 
measure  by  these  planets  that  God  has  stationed  in  it. 

There  is  one  magic  word  somewhere,  if  we  can  find  it,  with 
which  we  can  tame  these  truths,  as  the  old  magicians  subdued  the 
spirits  to  their  will.  Called  by  that  word  they  come  to  our  con- 
fessional and  tell  their  secrets.  The  power  that  was  in  them 
passes  into  us,  and  we  become  their  masters,  as  they  once  were 
ours.  They  go  to  do  our  bidding  in  humility,  and  own  our  sov- 
ereignty now  by  that  magic  word. 

In  the  midst  of  our  Christian  life  there  will  come  such  trans- 
figuration times.  We  walk  with  Christ  and  see  the  miracles  He 
does  with  his  constant  love,  but  we  see  Him  poor  and  despised ;  He 
is  not  of  the  noble,  nor  his  cause  of  the  nobilities  of  the  world; 
but  some  day  He  taketh  his  disciples  apart  and  is  transfigured  be- 
fore them ;  on  some  hilltop  of  prayer,  where  it  is  good  to  be,  they 
see  his  own  heavenly  glory  come  down  to  clothe  their  Lord;  his 
countenance  grows  bright  with  everlasting  love,  his  raiment  is 
pure  and  white  as  the  eternal  truth;  Moses  and  Elias  come  and 
talk  with  Him,  the  deep  sympathy  of  law  and  gospel  is  made 
plain  and  clear,  and  the  disciples  fall  upon  their  faces  and  worship 
the  Master  they  have  loved  so  well.  Henceforth  their  faith  is  not 
to  be  shaken.  They  know  whom  they  have  believed,  for  they 
have  seen  his  glory.  Such  blessed  seasons  come  to  us.  What- 
ever else  may  waver,  our  doubting  time  is  over.  The  memory  of 
this  Tabor  shall  be  with  us  as  we  look  on  Calvary.  We  have 
heard  the  voice  from  out  the  cloud  attest  Christ's  sonship  and 
our  duty,  —  "This  is  my  beloved  Son,  hear  Him."  We  go  down 
with  new  trust  in  God,  new  faith  in  Jesus,  new  sympathy  with 
heaven,  new  hope  for  men,  to  begin  again  our  walk  of  quiet  daily 
Christian  duty,  to  see  the  daily  miracle  and  feel  the  daily  bless- 
ing, to  strive  and  struggle  to  the  end. 
1858. 

He  was  looking  forward  with  a  mingled  sense  of  joy  and 
of  terror,  of  confidence  and  yet  of  reverential  awe,  to  the 
work  he  was  soon  to  begin.  Visions  of  the  profession  of  a 
teacher,  which  had  been  his  first  vocation,  seem  to  have  faded 
away  for  the  moment.  Life  was  very  rich  and  full  in  its 
promise;  he  had  a  deep  inward  gladness  of  soul  which  was 
incommunicable,  —  the  feeling  of  his  days  before  him,  —  but 
there  is  no  trace,  not  the  slightest,  of  any  sense  of  superiority, 


3a6  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1859 

no  consciousness  of  gifts  that  raised  him  above  other  men,  no 
expectation  of  distinction  or  renown  which  if  not  satisfied 
would  beget  the  soreness  of  disappointed  ambition.  His  out- 
look was  in  humility  of  spirit.  There  was  a  consciousness, 
however,  of  inward  harmony  which  now  began  to  be  reflected 
in  the  symmetry  of  his  person.  The  happiness  within  was 
stamped  upon  the  features,  in  place  of  a  certain  anxious  and 
inquiring  look  which  some  of  the  early  photographs  display. 

His  love  of  the  beautiful  had  found  no  opportunity  in  the 
study  of  art,  but  there  is  evidence  of  its  existence.  He  was 
mainly  content  with  the  beauty  of  nature,  or  as  it  found 
interpretation  in  poetry.  His  capacity  for  the  appreciation 
of  art,  inspired  and  fed  as  it  had  been  by  Ruskin,  was  only 
waiting  till  the  time  should  come  for  its  gratification.  It 
may  seem  like  a  trifle  to  mention  that  the  chief  ornament  of 
his  room  at  the  seminary  was  an  engraving  of  Evangeline, 
sent  him  by  his  brother  William,  who  knew  the  pleasure  it 
would  give.  That  face  has  lost  something  of  its  charm  by 
the  frequency  with  which  it  was  soon  encountered  in  so  many 
households.  But  its  connection  with  Longfellow's  poetry  as 
well  as  its  intrinsic  beauty  and  its  popular  recognition  made 
its  appearance  something  even  of  an  event  in  American  life. 
He  writes  to  his  brother  that  it  has  created  a  sensation  in  the 
theological  seminary  of  Virginia. 

At  this  time  he  was  looking  forward  to  marriage  as  in 
some  beautiful,  diviner  way  the  complement  and  completion 
of  his  being.  He  felt  no  call  to  a  celibate  life.  He  chroni- 
cles the  marriages  of  his  friends  without  comment;  he  was 
waiting  till  his  time  should  come.  To  one  of  his  friends  who 
asked  him  for  the  demands  and  conditions  he  would  make,  he 
replied,  in  a  humorous  way,  that  in  the  first  place  she  must 
be  small ;  in  the  second  place  she  must  be  beautiful ;  in  the 
third  place  she  must  not  know  too  much,  and  he  added  in 
the  fourth  place,  as  if  an  afterthought,  she  must  of  course 
be  good.1  He  was  rather  exigent  in  his  demand  for  personal 
beauty  of  form  and  figure,  as  though  an  injury  had  been 

1  The  Rev.  George  Augustus  Strong  has  communicated  thia  incident,  as  »!•*> 
17  others,  to  this  biography. 


AT.  23]  THE  RETROSPECT  327 

done  him  where  it  was  wanting.  His  letters  contain  many 
allusions  of  this  kind  after  the  manner  of  all  young  men. 
This  is  a  specimen :  — 

I  received  the  other  day  an  invitation  to  dinner  from  one  of  the 
nabobs  of  Alexandria,  which,  as  I  afterwards  found,  I  owed  en- 
tirely to  his  having  been  rather  intimate  with  Uncle  Brooks  l  and 
his  family  when  he  was  at  college  in  Cambridge  thirty  years  ago. 
Of  course  I  went,  and  had  a  very  pleasant  time.  So  you  see  our 
rich  relations  do  us  some  little  good  sometimes  after  all.  He 
lives  in  great  style,  keeps  a  grand  house,  sets  a  splendid  table, 
and  has  one  of  the  prettiest  girls  (age  about  eighteen  years  one 
month,  I  should  say)  for  a  daughter  that  I  ever  saw. 

She  is  the  prettiest  girl  I  have  seen  in  Virginia,  and  that 
is  n't  saying  much.  But  she  is  really  quite  stunning,  dark  hair 
and  eyes,  fine  complexion,  dresses  tastily,  lively,  full  of  fun,  and 
cordial  on  first  acquaintance,  as  all  Southern  ladies  are. 

Thus  he  writes  in  his  letters;  but  how  sacred  was  his  ideal, 
and  with  what  divine  purity  he  looked  upon  the  human  face 
in  the  beauty  of  its  appeal,  must  be  sought  in  his  intimate 
journal,  where  poetry  again  becomes  the  vehicle  of  his 
aspiration :  — 

Along  the  noisy  city  ways 

And  in  this  rattling  city  car, 
On  this  the  dreariest  of  days, 

Perplexed  with  business,  fret,  and  jar, 

When  suddenly  a  young  sweet  face 

Looked  on  my  petulance  and  pain, 
And  lent  it  something  of  its  grace, 

And  charmed  it  into  peace  again! 

The  day  was  just  as  bleak  without, 

My  neighbors  just  as  cold  within, 
And  truth  was  just  as  full  of  doubt, 

The  world  was  just  as  full  of  pain. 

But  in  the  light  of  that  young  smile 

The  world  grew  pure,  the  heart  grew  warm, 

1  The  late  Peter  Cbardon  Brooks,  Esq.,  of  Boston,  who  was  his  father's  own 
uncle,  and  his  mother's  uncle  by  marriage.    See  ante,  p.  27. 


3a8  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1859 

And  sunshine  poured  a  little  while 
Across  the  darkness  of  the  storm. 

I  did  not  care  to  seek  her  name, 

I  only  said,  God  bless  thy  life ; 
Thy  sweet  young  grace  be  still  the  same, 

Or  happy  maid  or  happy  wife. 
1868. 

And  here  is  a  genuine  and  beautiful  love  song,  which  it  will 
not  wrong  him  to  print :  — 

We  sit  together  in  our  soul's  high  window,  dearest, 

That  looks  upon  the  street  of  human  life, 
Within,  our  happy  home;  without,  the  world  thou  fearest, 

Within,  our  peace ;  without,  men's  angry  strife. 

Look  out !  see  how  strange  eyes  look  here  upon  us, 
How  poor  they  think  our  dwelling  and  how  cheap; 

They  dream  not  of  our  godlike  joys  and  honors, 
The  rich,  ripe  fields  of  blessing  that  we  reap. 

Nay,  close  the  curtain ;  it  is  wrong,  my  sweetest, 
That  they  should  see  the  love  they  do  not  know, 

Our  love,  the  purest,  darling,  and  completest 
God  ever  trusted  to  our  earth  below. 

Sit  here,  my  love,  with  all  the  world  behind  us. 

Sit  hand  in  hand,  nor  dare  to  speak  a  word, 
'T  is  wronging  God  to  share  what  he  consigned  us 

With  every  outcast  of  the  human  herd. 

So  sit  we  by  the  soul's  sweet  fireside,  fairest; 

The  days  go  by  as  light  winds  kiss  the  flowers, 
They  seek  through  all  earth's  sweetest  and  earth's  rarest 

A  love  so  sweet,  a  love  so  rare  as  ours. 
1868. 

And  so  the  period  of  his  preparation  ends  and  the  work  of 
his  life  begins.  The  long  stretch  of  his  life  was  before  him, 
the  seemingly  endless  years.  It  is  often  a  characteristic  of 
the  young  that  they  dwell  upon  death  and  its  meaning,  more 
even  than  those  who  approach  old  age,  or  are  bearing  the 


JET.  23]  THE   RETROSPECT  329 

burden  and  heat  of  the  day.  It  was  so  with  him.  He  was 
wont  at  this  time  to  ponder  upon  the  awful  secret,  as  throw- 
ing light  upon  the  meaning  of  life.  But  he  made  no  effort 
to  bring  before  his  imagination  the  intervening  years.  It 
was  of  these,  however,  that  his  father  and  mother  were 
thinking,  and  more  particularly  his  mother,  as  she  forecast 
the  future  in  the  great  anxiety  of  her  love.  Her  one  prayer 
for  him  was  that  he  should  lead  the  rest  of  his  life  according 
to  this  beginning.  It  is  not  possible  for  the  young  to  look  at 
things  from  the  point  of  view  of  those  who  are  older.  It  may 
have  been  so  with  him.  And  yet  the  refrain  of  the  letters 
his  mother  wrote  must  have  lingered  in  his  mind,  — the 
earnest  invocation  to  be  faithful  to  the  end  in  order  that  he 
might  receive  at  last  the  crown  of  rejoicing  before  God:  "Be 
thou  faithful  unto  death,  and  I  will  give  thee  the  crown  of 
life." 


CHAPTER  X 

1859-1860 

FIRST  YEAR  IN  THE  MINISTRY.  CHURCH  OP  THE  ADVENT, 
PHILADELPHIA.  EARLY  RECOGNITION  OF  HIS  POWER  AS  A 
PREACHER.  EXTRACTS  FROM  HIS  NOTE-BOOK 

PHILLIPS  BROOKS  began  his  ministry  on  Sunday,  July  10, 
in  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  Philadelphia.  Although  he 
was  unknown,  and  the  Church  of  the  Advent  was  not  included 
in  what  are  called  the  prominent  city  churches,  yet  somehow 
the  indefatigable  representatives  of  modern  journalism  dis- 
covered him,  and  the  tone  of  the  report  indicates  that  some- 
thing unwonted  had  occurred.  "Our  usual  pulpit  sketch  on 
Saturday,"  said  the  "Philadelphia  Press,"  of  July  15,  1859, 
"will  be  of  a  sermon  preached  last  Sunday  morning  at  the 
Advent  (Episcopal)  Church,  York  Avenue  and  Buttonwood 
Street,  by  Rev.  Phillips  Brooks,  a  young  gentleman  who  on 
that  occasion  entered  upon  his  ministry.  Mr.  Brooks  is 
quite  youthful  in  his  appearance,  but  evinces  talents  that  are 
quite  likely  to  render  his  services  highly  acceptable  to  the 
people  of  his  prospective  charge." 

The  following  account  in  the  "Press"  of  the  next  day  is 
headed  "A  Sermon  on  the  Law  of  the  House,"  by  Rev.  Phil- 
lips Brooks :  — 

The  Advent  Church  (Protestant  Episcopal),  Tork  Avenue  and 
Buttonwood  Street,  has  been  without  a  rector  since  some  months 
ago  it  was  left  by  Rev.  Mr.  Bean.  Mr.  Phillips  Brooks,  a 
young  gentleman  of  fine  attainments,  having  lately  been  invited 
to  occupy  this  pulpit,  preached  with  so  much  acceptance  that  by 
the  urgent  and  we  believe  the  unanimous  request  of  the  congre- 
gation, he  last  Sunday  morning  entered  upon  his  labors  there  in 
a  more  permanent  way.  In  all  probability  his  rectorship  of  the 


CHURCH   OK   THE   ADVENT.   PHILADELPHIA 


JET.  23-24]     THE  EARLY   MINISTRY          331 

Advent  Church  will  be  established  at  no  distant  day.  His  read- 
ing of  the  morning  lessons  was  not  without  marks  of  the  modesty 
and  distrust  of  self,  natural  to  one  of  his  youthful  appearance  in 
entering  upon  duties  of  so  responsible  a  character ;  yet  his  manner 
upon  the  whole  was  graceful  and  quite  indicative  of  adaptation  to 
the  solemn  office  to  which  he  has  been  called.  His  text  was  read 
from  the  forty-third  chapter  of  Ezekiel,  and  twelfth  verse,  to 
wit :  "  This  is  the  law  of  the  house ;  upon  the  top  of  the  mountain 
the  whole  limit  thereof  round  about  shall  be  holy.  Behold  this 
is  the  law  of  the  house." 

The  sermon  which  followed  was  delivered  in  good  style,  and 
bore  marks  of  preparation  which  would  not  have  compared  un- 
favorably with  the  productions  of  some  of  his  more  experienced 
brethren  in  the  ministry. 

This  was  the  preface  to  a  report  of  some  length  devoted  to 
the  sermon.  Evidently  the  writer  of  the  account  was  im- 
pressed as  by  something  unusual,  but  he  holds  himself  in 
restraint  as  a  becoming  attitude  towards  so  young  a  man,  and 
is  cautious  in  view  of  his  responsibility  to  the  public.  There 
is  also  a  slight  tone  of  kindly  patronage,  and  there  are  some 
inaccuracies,  as  when  he  draws  on  his  own  imagination  for 
the  details  of  the  original  connection  of  Mr.  Brooks  with  the 
Church  of  the  Advent.  But  these  are  slight  blemishes  com- 
pared with  the  importance  of  possessing  the  report  of  an  eye- 
witness. As  to  the  sermon  itself,  it  need  only  be  said  that  it 
was  so  far  unusual  that  it  sounded  a  new  note  in  preaching; 
it  enforced  the  ethical  as  the  highest  demand  of  Christianity, 
urging  character  rather  than  religious  experience  or  than 
devotion  to  dogmas.  It  had  the  tone  of  sincerity  and  reality, 
and  these  combined  with  the  charm  of  the  preacher  produced 
the  unusual  impression  as  of  something  of  moment  that  had 
taken  place.  It  is  remarkable  that  the  writer  of  this  account, 
in  describing  an  occasion  which  he  deemed  important,  should 
have  failed  to  allude  to  the  rapidity  of  utterance,  which  we 
may  presume  marked  the  delivery  of  the  sermon. 

The  following  letter  of  Mr.  Brooks  was  written  on  the  day 
when  this  report  of  his  first  sermon  was  published.  The 
tone  of  it  does  not  indicate  that  the  first  Sunday  at  the  Advent 
had  marked  any  signal  success :  — 


331  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1859-60 

PHILADELPHIA,  Saturday,  July  16, 1850. 

DEAB  WILLIAM,  —  I  suppose  you  have  kept  pretty  well  posted 
on  my  movements,  so  that  there  is  n't  very  much  to  write  you  in 
the  way  of  news.  I  am  living  very  quietly  here,  still  at  the 
Ashland  House,  but  have  engaged  a  room  into  which  I  hope  to 
go  next  week,  so  please  say  to  everybody,  and  remember  for  your- 
self, that  any  letters  written  on  Tuesday  next  or  after  must  be 
directed  to  No.  701  Vine  Street,  Philadelphia,.  It  is  a  very 
pleasant  room,  looking  out  on  Franklin  Square.  You  can  find  it 
on  the  side-board  map  on  the  corner  of  Vine  and  Seventh,  third 
story,  front  room.  I  am  glad  father  gave  yon  such  a  pleasant 
account  of  his  seminary  visit.  I  wish  you  could  have  been  there. 
I  think  we  could  have  done  a  trifle  better  for  you  than  we  did  on 
Christmas,  '56.  Father  made  a  great  impression,  and  was  much 
talked  of  after  his  departure.  Tell  him  so.  It  is  tolerably  lone- 
some work  here,  and  I  get  a  trifle  blue  sometimes.  My  vestry 
and  people  are  very  kind.  To-morrow  is  my  second  Sunday.  I 
see  the  "  Press  "  of  this  morning  has  a  mangled  report  of  my  last 
Sunday's  sermon.  Tell  father  his  friend  Mr.  West  just  sent  to 
me  for  his  address,  and  I  presume  is  going  to  send  him  a  copy. 
Don't  take  it  for  granted  that  I  said  just  what  the  paper  says  I 
did,  for  a  good  deal  of  it  is  misunderstood,  and  considerable  I 
can't  understand  or  trace  myself.  Well,  good-by  for  the  present. 
I  wish  you  were  here.  I  wish  I  had  somebody  just  to  speak  two 
words  to,  —  somebody,  I  mean,  that  would  n't  look  all  the  while 
quite  so  much  as  if  they  were  talking  to  "the  minister."  Make 
it  up  the  best  way  you  can  by  writing,  all  of  you.  Much  love  to 
all  and  to  yourself.  PHILL. 

Mr.  Brooks  himself  when  alluding  to  these  first  Sundays 
at  the  Advent,  many  years  afterward,  recalled  a  circumstance 
of  which  there  is  no  hint  in  his  letters  at  the  time.  When 
the  Rev.  Leighton  Parks,  rector  of  Emmanuel  Church,  hu- 
morously complained  to  him  that  he  was  drawing  away  his 
congregation,  as  of  all  the  other  churches  in  Boston,  to  the 
new  Trinity  Church,  he  said  to  him,  "Parks,  we  all  of  us 
have  to  go  through  this."  He  then  went  on  to  say  that  he 
had  engaged  to  supply  the  Church  of  the  Advent  for  three 
months,  leaving  them  at  liberty  to  call  him  as  rector  at  the 
expiration  of  this  time.  But  one  Sunday  evening  as  he  was 
going  home  from  church  with  one  of  the  vestrymen,  he  said 
to  him  that  perhaps  he  had  better  leave  at  once  and  not  wait 


MT.  23-24]     THE  EARLY   MINISTRY          333 

till  the  three  months  were  out.  All  that  his  companion  could 
say  in  reply  was,  "Well,  as  long  as  you  have  begun,  you  had 
better  stay  out  the  time  for  which  you  were  hired." 

But  the  young  minister  was  really  succeeding,  as  is  seen  by 
these  letters  to  his  father :  — 

PHILADELPHIA,  August  6, 1859. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  have  been  meaning  all  the  week  to  answer 
your  last  letter,  but  somehow  it  has  been  a  busier  week  than  com- 
mon. It  is  the  first  time  I  have  written  two  sermons  in  a  single 
week,  and  then  I  have  been  round  seeing  the  people  pretty  exten- 
sively. I  preach  twice  to-morrow  (1  John  iii.  3  and  Rev.  xxii. 
17).  Next  week  I  expect  to  have  pretty  easy.  Paddock  is 
coming  down  to  spend  a  few  days  with  me,  and  will  stay  and 
preach  for  me  on  Sunday  the  14th.  I  am  looking  forward  to  his 
visit  with  a  good  deal  of  pleasure.  .  .  .  Everybody  is  very  kind 
and  pleasant,  and  I  like  the  church  very  much.  The  congregations 
keep  up  well.  Last  Sunday  evening  it  was  crowded.  ...  As 
to  your  question  about  remaining  here,  I  don't  consider  it  at  all 
certain  yet.  I  like  the  people,  and  I  know  they  want  me  to  re- 
main, and  I  do  not  think  the  work  would  be  more  than  I  can  do. 
The  only  question  is  whether  I  had  better  undertake  at  once  fully 
as  much  as  I  can  do.  I  feel  I  need  for  the  present  a  good  deal 
of  time  for  study.  I  need  to  be  taking  in  as  well  as  letting  out, 
and  if  I  feel  that  this  place  will  occupy  me  so  fully  as  not  to 
allow  of  that  I  shall  not  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  keep  it.  One  of  my 
three  months  is  gone  already,  and  I  am  no  more  fixed  in  my  mind 
than  I  was  at  first.  I  want  to  talk  with  Dr.  Vinton  when  he 
gets  back  to  town.'  ...  I  am  fully  settled  at  last,  books  up  and 
all  came  in  good  order.  Now  and  then  I  buy  a  new  one,  and  my 
library  is  slowly  growing.  .  .  .  Mr.  Reinsert  sent  me  a  big  bun- 
dle of  stationery  the  other  day,  enough  to  last  me  for  three  or 
four  ordinary  lives.  This  paper  and  envelope  are  part  of  it.  .  .  . 
My  people  live  all  over  creation,  the  only  rule  being  that  nobody 
shall  live  anywhere  near  the  church  and  no  two  anywhere  near  each 
other.  Your  affectionate  son, 

P.  B. 

October  5,  1859. 

I  hope  things  are  prospering  at  Advent.  They  are  just  be- 
ginning to  collect  their  quarter's  rents  and  let  new  pews,  which 
they  do  the  first  three  Monday  nights  of  every  quarter.  Mr.  Reed 
tells  me  he  let  five  or  six  pews  last  Monday  evening.  Last  Sun- 
day night  we  had  the  largest  congregation  we  have  had  yet,  the 


334  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1859-60 

church  full,  except  one  or  two  of  the  chancel  pews.  I  preached 
all  day  and  shall  next  Sunday.  The  week  after  that,  I  have  one 
supply  engaged.  I  am  rather  dreading  preaching  in  Dr.  Vinton's 
hig  church  next  Sunday  afternoon.  I  am  going  to  preach  my  last 
Sunday  evening's  sermon  (Matt.  xxv.  28).  I  have  not  sent  in 
my  acceptance  yet,  but  have  let  them  understand  that  it  is  coming. 
Next  Sunday  completes  my  three  months,  and  I  concluded  to  wait 
till  after  that.  ...  I  don't  expect  to  preach  so  much  hereafter 
as  I  have  thus  far.  I  begin  to  know  more  of  the  ministers  and 
shall  be  able  to  get  more  exchanges. 

I  hear  nothing  from  Fred ;  presume  things  are  going  smoothly 
out  at  Cambridge,  and  he  is  covering  himself  with  glory  the  way 
his  elder  brother  did  n't  when  he  was  there.  Tell  him  Advent 
will  be  wanting  an  assistant  by  the  time  he  is  ready. 

October  17, 1859. 

Yesterday  was  glorious,  bright,  clear,  fresh,  and  bringing  full 
houses.  I  preached  at  Dr.  Vinton's  in  the  afternoon,  and  had 
the  big  house  full ;  got  through  it  pretty  well.  I  think  he  will 
be  back  by  next  Sunday.  In  the  morning  I  preached  my  intro- 
ductory as  permanent  rector  of  the  Advent.  Text,  "Holding 
forth  the  word  of  life."  At  last  I  can  look  on  myself  as  fairly 
fixed,  and  it  is  a  comfortable  satisfaction  to  find  it  so.  The  more 
I  see  of  the  place,  the  more  I  feel  it  is  just  the  place  I  want,  and 
I  hope  things  are  going  to  prosper  there.  We  are  still  renting 
our  seats  slowly  but  steadily,  and  growing  up,  I  think,  in  every 
way.  ...  I  like  Philadelphia  more  and  more,  though  I  hardly 
see  anybody  outside  of  my  parish. 

October  22, 1859. 

Last  night  I  got  a  note  from  one  of  Dr.  Vinton's  vestry,  say- 
ing he  was  going  to  be  away  another  Sunday,  and  asking  me  to 
preach  for  him  again.  So  I  shall  fill  the  great  man's  place  for 
the  third  time. 

November  10, 1859. 

I  heard  from  Bishop  Eastburn  the  other  day,  sending  me  my 
transfer  to  this  diocese,  and  I  handed  it  in  to  Bishop  Potter  yes- 
terday, so  that  now  my  settlement  here  is  complete. 

November  23,  1859. 

In  the  morning  at  10.30  we  have  service  (Thanksgiving),  when 
I  shall  preach  on  (Ps.  xlvii.  7),  that  is,  if  I  can  only  get  up  at 
some  preposterous  hour  in  the  morning  to  get  my  sermon  done.  I 
have  worked  on  it  so  long  to-day  that  I  am  sick  and  tired  of  it, 
and  shall  be  sure  of  at  least  one  thankful  moment  to-morrow, 


MT.  23-24]    THE  EARLY  MINISTRY          335 

when  I  get  through  preaching  it.  ...  To-day  I  got  a  long-pro- 
mised present  of  a  dressing-gown  from  the  ladies  of  the  Advent. 
Slippers,  I  understand,  are  to  follow. 

Things  are  going  on  much  as  usual  down  at  the  Little  Brown 
Church.  Last  Sunday  evening  we  had  the  biggest  congregation  I 
have  seen  there  yet. 

The  "Episcopal  Recorder,"  published  in  Philadelphia, 
made  a  kindly  though  formal  reference  to  Mr.  Brooks 's  work, 
and  in  the  same  connection  mentioned  the  Rev.  H.  A.  Wise, 
Jr.,  who  had  just  assumed  the  charge  of  the  Church  of  Our 
Saviour,  in  West  Philadelphia.  Mr.  Wise  was  a  Virginian, 
and  a  graduate  of  the  theological  seminary  at  Alexandria. 

NEW  CLERICAL  FRIENDS.  —  We  have  had  the  pleasure  recently 
of  adding  several  to  the  list  of  divines  in  our  city  and  its  vicinity. 
The  Church  of  Our  Saviour,  West  Philadelphia,  enjoyed  the  min- 
istrations of  its  rector,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wise,  for  the  first  time  on 
Sunday  last.  He  comes  into  our  midst  with  good  recommenda- 
tions from  those  with  whom  he  was  formerly  connected,  and  we 
are  not  surprised  to  learn  that  the  impression  he  produced  was 
eminently  favorable  to  his  success.  In  the  Church  of  the  Advent 
we  hear  good  accounts  of  the  present  incumbent,  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Brooks,  who  has  commenced  his  work  earnestly  and  zealously,  and 
is  listened  to  by  large  and  increasing  congregations. 

It  was  the  custom  in  those  days  for  the  clergy  to  make 
frequent  exchanges,  and  Mr.  Brooks  writes  to  his  brother 
that  he  has  succeeded  in  arranging  an  exchange  with  Mr. 
Wise  for  the  Sunday,  November  27,  1859.  "Next  Sunday 
Advent  is  to  have  supplies;  in  the  morning  Rev.  H.  A.  Wise, 
Jr.,  who  has  just  come  and  is  exciting  a  great  sensation  here. 
I  consider  it  a  great  card  to  have  insured  his  first  exchange." 
In  connection  with  this  circumstance  he  related  another  inci- 
dent to  the  Rev.  Leighton  Parks  many  years  after,  in  order 
to  show  that  he  had  experienced  the  mortification  arising 
from  the  lack  of  pulpit  fame.  He  had  already  become  known 
to  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  but  his  reputation  ap- 
parently had  not  yet  extended  to  West  Philadelphia.  He 
had  preached  there  in  the  Church  of  Our  Saviour  on  the 
morning  of  the  Sunday  mentioned,  and  was  about  to  close 


336  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1859-60 

the  service  from  the  chancel  when  he  noticed  a  member  of  the 
congregation  anxiously  approaching  through  the  main  aisle 
with  some  message  for  him.  And  the  message  was  this: 
Was  he  to  preach  again  at  the  evening  service?  When  the 
messenger  was  told  that  the  exchange  was  only  for  the  morn- 
ing, he  replied,  "Will  you  please  give  notice  that  Mr.  Wise 
himself  will  preach  in  the  evening?" 

But  the  final  verdict  on  his  preaching  was  yet  to  be  de- 
livered. Since  he  arrived  in  Philadelphia,  Dr.  Vinton  had 
been  absent  most  of  the  time,  on  his  summer  vacation  and  in 
attendance  on  the  General  Convention.  Although  Mr.  Brooks 
had  preached  several  times  in  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity, 
Dr.  Vinton  had  not  yet  heard  him.  But  now  he  was  again 
at  home,  and  Mr.  Brooks  writes,  December  30,  1859,  to  his 
father :  "  Christmas  evening,  Dr.  Vinton  preached  at  Advent 
an  old  St.  Paul's  sermon,  'My  yoke  is  easy,  and  my  burden 
is  light.'  He  seemed  much  pleased  with  the  look  of  things 
among  us.  In  the  afternoon  I  preached  for  him,  with  him 
sitting  in  the  chancel,  looking  up  to  me  as  he  used  to  look  at 
Perry.1  It  is  the  first  time  I  have  ever  performed  in  his 
presence."  It  was  not  long  after  this  that  Dr.  Vinton,  meet- 
ing the  Rev.  George  Augustus  Strong,  asked  him  what  they 
thought  of  Brooks  in  the  Virginia  seminary.  Mr.  Strong 
replied  that  they  had  a  very  high  opinion  of  him  there. 
"Well,"  said  Dr.  Vinton,  "I  should  think  so.  He  preaches 
better  sermons  than  I  did  at  his  age,  or  have  ever  preached 
since."  There  was  no  better  judge  of  preaching  than  Dr. 
Vinton,  nor  was  it  easy  for  him  to  say  such  things.  He 
also  added,  "He  is  an  orator."  It  was  Dr.  Vinton's  opin- 
ion, expressed  on  more  than  one  occasion,  that  a  great 
part  of  the  power  of  Phillips  Brooks's  oratory  lay  in  his 
voice. 

In  the  first  year  of  Mr.  Brooks's  ministry  there  occurred 
an  event,  important  in  itself,  but  fraught  with  special  signi- 
ficance for  him  and  for  his  work.  In  the  pocket  diary  which 
he  kept,  he  has  written  these  w,ords  without  comment,  enclos- 

1  William  Stevens  Perry,  late  Bishop  of  Iowa,  at  that  time  assistant  minister 
at  St  Paul's,  Boston. 


.  23-24]     THE  EARLY   MINISTRY          337 

ing  them,  however,  in  a  border  of  black  lines,  as  if  a  sign  of 
mourning:  "Friday,  December  2,  1859,  10.15  A.  M.  John 
Brown  hung  at  Charlestown,  Va."  The  story  need  not  be 
told  here,  only  the  fact  may  be  mentioned  that  Phillips 
Brooks  was  strangely  moved.  He  talked  on  the  subject  with 
his  friend,  Mr.  Wise,  the  son  of  Governor  Wise  of  Virginia, 
under  whose  administration  the  execution  took  place,  and 
while  they  differed  sharply  in  their  judgments,  their  friend- 
ship was  not  disturbed.  To  his  brother  he  writes :  — 

VINB  STKEKT,  Saturday  evening,  December  3,  1859. 

DEAR  WILLIAM, — .  .  .  Well,  poor  old  Brown  's  gone.  What 
a  death  for  such  a  man.  It  makes  me  mad  to  hear  the  way  some 
of  our  Northern  conservatives  talk  about  him.  I  believe  Governor 
Wise  himself  does  him  more  justice  than  they  do. 

As  to  his  being  crazy,  of  course  excessive  lack  of  prudence, 
judgment,  and  foresight,  which  every  one  admits  that  he  showed, 
is  craziness  in  its  very  definition,  and  so  every  rash  man  is  crazy ; 
but  his  heroic  devotion  to  what  he  thought  was  right  is  surely 
not  to  be  confounded  with  the  craziness  that  he  showed  in  judging 
whether  it  was  really  right  and  best.  What  do  people  say  about 
it  all  in  Boston? 

December  9,  1859. 

Wise  took  tea  with  me  last  night,  and  for  the  first  time  we 
had  a  long  talk  about  Harper's  Ferry  troubles,  John  Brown,  etc. 
Of  course  we  did  n't  coincide,  but  it  gave  us  both  a  chance  to 
define  our  positions,  and  I  was  pleased  to  find  him  not  quite  so 
radical  as  I  had  thought.  He  is  drawing  great  crowds  here,  and 
preaching  splendid  sermons. 

The  response  to  these  remarks  came  from  his  father,  who, 
while  he  had  no  sympathy  with  slavery,  was  yet  averse  to  any 
agitation  of  the  subject.  He  had  evidently  taken  alarm  at 
the  tone  of  his  son's  comment;  perhaps  he  had  misgivings 
about  the  Phillips  blood.  He  had  already  seen  enough  of 
his  son  to  know  that  he  was  more  pronounced  than  himself 
in  his  opposition  to  slavery,  and  in  one  of  his  letters  had 
described  to  him  a  recent  meeting  in  Faneuil  Hall,  where 
"your  friends  the  anti-slavers  mustered  in  force,  and  your 
kinsman  Wendell  Phillips  1  expressed  a  wish  that  the 

1  See  ante,  p.  6.  Wendell  Phillips  and  Phillips  Brooks  were  alike  lineal 
descendants  of  Samuel  Phillips  of  Salem. 


338  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1859-60 

prayer  '  God  save  the  Commonwealth  of  Massachusetts ' 
should  be  changed  to  read,  '  God  damn  the  Commonwealth 
of  Massachusetts.' '  Now  he  wrote  to  his  son  more  emphat- 
ically:— 

I  see  you  allude  to  the  Harper's  Ferry  affair.  All  well  enough 
to  have  your  private  opinions  on  all  such  matters,  but  I  must  beg 
of  you  don't  carry  such  things  as  politics  into  your  pulpit.  Leave 
all  such  at  701.  .  .  .  Let  others  trumpet  the  exploits  and  vir- 
tues of  "old  Brown." 

These  first  years  of  his  ministry  in  Philadelphia  were  full 
to  overflowing  in  rich  interests,  in  deep,  inward  satisfaction, 
and  in  a  certain  exultant  joy.  He  found  his  work  to  be 
something  greater,  more  delightful  and  beautiful  even,  than 
he  had  anticipated.  He  had  been  received  by  his  congrega- 
tion with  open  hearts  and  hands ;  they  could  not  seem  to  do 
enough  to  show  their  gratitude.  Mr.  Remsen  in  particular 
became  his  close  friend,  often  calling  on  him,  and  having  him 
at  his  house,  and,  what  was  especially  useful,  sending  him 
the  new  books  as  they  appeared,  for  he  was  connected  with 
the  publishing  house  of  Lippincott  &  Company.  "  Of  course 
my  devoted  people,"  writes  Mr.  Brooks,  "have  done  their 
duty  in  the  way  of  Christmas  presents,  and  I  am  crowded 
up  with  the  usual  amount  of  books,  pencil-cases,  watch-cases, 
handkerchiefs,  and  useless  little  trifles  of  every  description. 
I  think  I  have  enough  handkerchiefs  on  hand  to  last  me  well 
through  an  average  lifetime." 

His  small  pocket  diary,  faithfully  kept,  presents  an  attrac- 
tive picture  of  the  young  minister  in  his  first  parish.  His 
mornings  he  gave  to  reading  and  to  study  and  to  the  writing 
of  sermons;  his  afternoons  to  visiting  his  parishioners  and 
making  calls  upon  the  sick,  and  rarely  was  at  home  to  tea. 
His  conscientiousness  in  the  performance  of  every  duty  is 
apparent.  But  there  were  already  many  demands  on  his 
time.  The  clergy  of  the  city  made  him  welcome,  calling 
upon  him  as  clerical  etiquette  required,  and  thus  increasing 
his  social  duties.  But  he  was  constituted  to  enjoy  society, 
and  to  meet  people  was  his  chief  recreation.  He  had  many 


MT.  23-24]    THE  EARLY  MINISTRY          339 

friends  in  the  city  and  vicinity,  some  of  them  his  fellow 
students  in  the  seminary,  among  whom  were  Mr.  Strong, 
who  was  at  Wilmington,  Mr.  Paddock,  and  Mr.  Yocum  at 
Germantown.  With  Mr.  Wise  his  intimacy  increased  despite 
the  divergence  in  their  political  opinions.  They  called  upon 
each  other  often,  and  kept  late  hours.  He  often  remarks  in 
his  diary  after  Mr.  Wise  had  been  spending  an  evening  with 
him,  "  Walked  part  of  the  way  home  with  Wise."  Mr.  Strong 
came  from  Wilmington  frequently  to  see  him,  and  he  made 
visits  there  in  return.  He  was  very  dependent  on  his  friends, 
and  at  times  when  he  felt  his  isolation  and  loneliness,  he 
earnestly  besought  their  presence.  This  hungering  for  the 
communion  of  friendship  breaks  out  in  every  letter  to  Mr. 
Strong,  with  whom  he  kept  up  a  correspondence.  One  of 
these  letters  is  a  specimen  of  many.  When  he  found  he  was 
to  spend  Christmas  alone  he  writes  to  him :  — 

December  23,  1859. 

.  .  .  You  shall  come  just  when  you  please,  and  do  just  what 
you  please,  and  be  lord  of  your  own  Christmas,  with  no  one  to 
bully  you  or  make  you  preach.  You  shall  wear  a  cravat  of  any 
color  you  please,  and  have  your  own  pick  of  any  seat  in  any  syn- 
agogue in  town.  You  shall  attend  any  worship  you  prefer,  from 
the  Roman  Catholic  Cathedral  down  to  the  "Progressive  Friends," 
from  the  Orthodoxy  of  the  Advent  to  the  wildest  heterodoxy  of 
High  Churchmanship  and  Unitarianism.  You  shall  smoke  ma- 
nillas  in  the  vestry,  and  think  of  what  you  please  in  sermon  time. 
Only  come,  and  let  us  have  a  Christmas  together. 

His  relations  with  Dr.  Vinton  had  now  become  very  close. 
He  frequently  called  on  him,  and  Dr.  Vinton  responded  in 
returning  his  calls.  He  dined  with  him  often,  and  whenever 
there  was  any  social  function  at  Dr.  Vinton's  house,  he  was 
sure  to  be  thore.  In  this  way  he  became  acquainted,  as  he 
writes,  "with  the  upper  ten  of  Philadelphia,"  receiving  many 
invitations  which  he  was  unable  to  accept.  He  was  also  mak- 
ing new  friends,  among  whom  was  Dr.  Weir  Mitchell,  the 
eminent  physician,  and  destined  to  eminence  as  a  man  of  let- 
ters. Dr.  Mitchell  found  him  out  a  few  weeks  after  he  went 
to  Philadelphia,  and  the  intimate  friendship  then  commenced 


340  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1859-60 

was  sundered  only  by  death.  There  was  another  friend,  the 
Rev.  Charles  D.  Cooper,  many  years  his  senior,  then  rector 
of  St.  Philip's  Church.  Among  all  the  clergy  of  Philadel- 
phia, his  heart  went  out  from  the  first  most  strongly  to 
Mr.  Cooper.  He  was  much  at  his  house,  and  before  long  it 
became  a  fixed  custom  for  him  to  go  there  every  Sunday 
evening,  after  his  service  in  church  was  over.  He  often 
spent  the  night,  and  lingered  after  breakfast  the  next  morn- 
ing. To  Mr.  Cooper's  open  house  came  others  also,  Dr. 
Vinton  and  the  Mitchells,  Mr.  Strong  and  later  Dr.  Richards, 
who  was  to  be  called  before  long  to  be  rector  of  the  Church 
of  Our  Saviour.  It  was  the  rendezvous  for  a  set  of  clergy 
of  kindred  minds.  The  warm  heart  and  sober  judgment  of 
Mr.  Cooper  made  him  a  valuable  friend  of  Phillips  Brooks, 
who  in  turn  repaid  his  goodness  by  a  singular  devotion,  which 
will  appear  later  in  their  correspondence.  Philadelphia  of 
course  was  also  a  centre  for  visiting  clergy;  his  old  friends 
stopped  as  they  were  passing  through  the  city,  and  now  and 
then  there  were  convivial  evenings  when  Strong,  Richards, 
Potter,  Paddock,  and  others  lived  over  again  the  familiar 
life  at  the  seminary. 

In  the  midst  of  these  engagements  runs  the  constant  refer- 
ence to  the  sermon  he  was  writing.  He  was  indefatigable  in 
this  duty,  writing  his  two  sermons  every  week  except  when  he 
found  relief  by  an  exchange  with  some  brother  clergyman. 
He  delighted  in  this  part  of  his  work,  but  it  was  not  an  easy 
task,  nor  did  it  ever  become  so.  He  labored  over  his  ser- 
mons. At  this  time  he  was  still  sensitive  to  the  influence  of 
the  weather.  A  rainy  day  made  it  almost  impossible  for  him 
to  work.  On  one  occasion  he  records  that  he  was  obliged  to 
give  up  a  sermon  he  was  writing  because  of  the  incessant 
pitiless  rain.  His  constitution  had  not  gained  as  yet  its  full 
strength;  he  often  complained  of  being  "terribly  tired  "  after 
a  Sunday's  work.  He  found  relief,  however,  in  what  was 
then  a  custom,  but  has  since  fallen  somewhat  into  desuetude, 
making  it  a  rule  to  "exchange  pulpits"  as  often  at  least  as 
once  a  month.  It  was  regarded  as  a  clerical  courtesy  to  invite 
a  newcomer  to  every  pulpit  in  the  city.  Of  this  custom  he 


MT.  23-24]     THE  EARLY   MINISTRY          341 

took  full  advantage.  It  had  many  merits:  it  bound  the 
churches  together,  it  made  the  clergy  known,  but  it  was  only 
possible  when  there  was  homogeneousness  in  the  manner  of 
conducting  the  service  and  when  the  organization  of  parishes 
was  a  simple  one. 

What  is  called  "church  work"  was  then  hardly  known  or 
had  not  been  invented.  A  minister  was  thought  of  not  so 
much  as  ministering  at  the  church's  altar,  as  proclaiming 
a  gospel  from  the  pulpit.  There  was  no  complexity  in  the 
organization  of  a  parish ;  besides  the  wardens  and  vestry,  the 
sewing  circle,  and  the  Sunday-school,  there  were  no  guilds, 
or  societies,  or  committees  to  be  superintended.  There  was 
of  course  the  standing  difficulty  with  the  choir,  and  to  this 
the  Church  of  the  Advent  was  no  exception.  At  times,  Mr. 
Brooks  grew  weary  with  the  incessant  demands  of  the  endless 
routine.  Thus  he  writes  to  a  friend:  "The  everlasting 
whirligig  of  visiting  and  sermon-writing  keeps  up  its  revolu- 
tions ;  no  weddings,  not  even  a  baptism  to  break  the  mono- 
tony. But  it 's  a  pleasant  life."  He  speaks  of  his  first 
experience  with  a  sewing  circle :  — 

You  would  have  been  amused  to  see  me  presiding  at  the  first 
meeting  of  my  sewing  circle  the  other  day,  to  choose  officers,  etc. 
The  way  women  won't  be  bound  by  parliamentary  rules  is  very 
funny. 

The  ritual  of  the  church  was  also  simple  in  those  days,  nor 
had  the  movement  known  as  ritualism  yet  begun.  The  min- 
ister faced  the  congregation  in  the  reading  of  the  service,  the 
boy  choir  was  almost  unknown,  and  in  the  pulpit  it  was  the 
prevailing  custom  to  wear  the  black  Geneva  gown.  It  created 
a  commotion  when  soon  after  the  new  rector  came  the 
"black  gowns  "  were  stolen  from  the  vestry.  It  did  not  then 
occur  to  them  that  the  surplice  might  be  used  as  a  substitute, 
and  immediately  they  were  replaced.  The  Morning  and  the 
Evening  Prayer  constituted  the  Sunday  service,  with  the 
administration  of  the  Lord's  Supper  on  the  first  Sunday  of 
the  month.  But  the  great  attraction  was  the  sermon,  —  an 
ideal  indeed  capable  of  being  abused,  but  in  its  higher  form 
the  presentation  of  the  gospel  of  a  great  deliverance. 


34i  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1859-60 

Phillips  Brooks,  both  as  a  boy  and  as  a  man,  attached  im- 
portance to  the  commemoration  of  days  that  constituted  land- 
marks, birthdays,  Thanksgiving  Days,  any  day  that  stood  for 
the  deeper  experiences  of  life.  It  was  with  a  sense  of  sadness 
that  he  now  realized  that  the  time-honored  New  England 
Thanksgiving  Day,  in  all  its  joy  and  glory,  was  for  him  a 
thing  of  the  past.  He  would  no  more  go  home  as  a  boy  to 
join  the  family  at  the  dinner  table,  where  the  sense  of  family 
feeling  found  its  highest  expression  and  sanction.  In  this 
respect  he  resembled  his  mother.  It  was  hard  for  her  to  be 
reconciled  to  the  fact  that  there  was  to  be  henceforth  a  gap 
at  the  table.  She  pleaded  with  him  to  come,  but  the  demands 
of  his  parish  made  it  impossible.  He  had  his  Thanksgiving 
sermon  to  preach,  his  congregation  wanted  it,  and  he  ac- 
cepted the  inevitable.  He  writes  to  his  brother  an  account 
of  the  day  in  Philadelphia :  — 

Friday  evening,  November  25, 1859. 

DEAR  WILLIAM, — Well,  Thanksgiving's  over.  We  had  a 
turkey  that  showed  they  understood  their  guest,  and  I  tried  to  do 
the  conscientious  justice  that  the  day  demanded.  I  think  I  suc- 
ceeded. For  the  rest,  the  day  passed  off  very  pleasantly.  We 
had  a  very  good  church  full  in  the  morning,  and  in  consideration 
of  their  eagerness  I  gave  them  a  short  sermon.  No  politics.  I 
suppose  our  Boston  pulpits  echoed  on  that  day.  Of  course  you  all 
had  the  merriest  of  times  at  home.  It 's  four  years  back,  but  I 
can  remember  just  how  you  used  to  do  Thanksgiving  Days  at 
home.  People  have  n't  learned  the  true  Puritan  style  here  yet, 
but  it  is  human  instinct,  and  I  think  we  succeeded  pretty  well 
yesterday. 

In  this  connection  may  be  inserted  a  description  of  a  fam- 
ily Thanksgiving  dinner,  which  he  wrote  while  at  the  Virginia 
seminary  to  his  brother  George.  It  gives  the  picture  of  the 
boys  at  home  in  a  vivid  way.  But  it  is  also  the  picture  of  a 
thousand  New  England  homes. 

Thanksgiving  Day,  1857. 

DEAR  GEORGE,  —  As  nearly  as  I  can  calculate  you  are  at  this 
moment  (I  have  made  all  due  allowance  for  difference  of  longi- 
tude) sitting  down  to  the  turkey  and  plum  pudding.  Allow  me 


JET.  23-24]     THE  EARLY   MINISTRY          343 

to  take  my  slice  with  you,  making  my  own  welcome,  and  finding 
a  seat  where  I  can.  What  a  stunner  of  a  fowl !  See  John  mea- 
suring it  solemnly  with  his  eye  and  trying  to  make  out  whether 
he  or  it  is  the  biggest.  We  won't  quarrel  about  drumsticks. 
You  shall  have  one,  and  I  the  other.  What  a  pity  the  beast 
was  n't  a  quadruped !  To  think  of  having  dined  only  yesterday 
on  cold  mutton  with  rice  for  desert,  and  now  —  my  eye!  do  just 
look  at  that  cranberry  sauce.  How  quiet  Pistols  is!  No  matter; 
he  is  busy,  and  fast  getting  beyond  the  speaking  point.  Hullo, 
my  plate  's  clear;  another  piece  of  turkey,  if  you  please.  Don't 
look  frightened.  Thanksgiving  only  comes  once  a  year.  Gra- 
cious !  Do  look  at  Fred.  Now  do  be  a  little  moderate,  my  dear. 
Don't  you  see  how  hard  Arthur  is  trying  to  keep  up  with  you? 
The  poor  boy  will  kill  himself.  Here  comes  the  pudding.  Father 
of  course  proposes  to  have  it  saved  till  to-morrow.  He  has  done 
it  every  Thanksgiving  Day,  I  can  remember,  for  the  last  twenty- 
five  years.  But  you  don't!  We  finish  it  now  if  we  never  eat 
again.  We  never  have  any  supper,  you  know,  on  Thanksgiving 
Days,  and  we  shall  be  all  right  by  breakfast  time.  .  .  .  Well, 
dinner  's  over,  and  Pistols  is  laid  up  on  the  sofa,  and  John's  jacket 
just  covers  the  small  of  his  back,  and  Fred  is  trying  to  look  as  if 
he  had  n't  eaten  too  much,  and  Father  is  looking  for  somebody  to 
go  to  walk  with  him.  You  had  better  go,  and  I  will  leave  much 
love  to  all  and  take  the  next  train  of  thought  for  Virginia.  O 
reservoir!  Your  loving,  busy  brother, 

PHILL. 

Many  of  these  home  letters  contain  allusions  which  indi- 
cate how  strong  was  the  tie  binding  him  to  home  and  family. 
He  had  been  so  strongly  moored  to  that  home  in  early  life 
that  it  had  become  a  part  of  his  being.  As  he  grew  into 
manhood,  he  could  not  put  away  these  things.  He  may  not 
have  been  peculiar  in  this  respect,  but  the  feeling  was  deep 
and  intense  with  him,  and  it  is  necessary  to  make  it  promi- 
nent to  give  the  man  in  his  full  proportions.  All  through 
his  life,  so  long  as  the  home  still  existed,  his  heart  leaped  up 
at  the  thought  of  it.  The  tie  of  blood  relationship  had  in  it 
something  for  which  no  friendship  was  ever  a  substitute. 
Thus  he  writes,  and  his  words  may  be  taken  as  a  specimen 
of  many  of  his  letters :  "  I  feel  kind  of  homesick  this  even- 
ing, sick  of  seeing  nothing  but  these  stranger  faces ;  and  it 
would  be  a  treat  to  look  in  at  the  red-clothed  back  parlor 


344  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1859-60 

table  for  an  hour  or  two."  Still  he  was  happy  in  his  work. 
In  this  same  letter,  February  9,  1859,  he  says:  "Things  are 
going  much  as  usual  down  at  Advent,  quietly  and  pleasantly. 
The  church  is  well  filled  and  most  of  our  desirable  pews  are 
rented.  I  don't  think  I  could  have  happened  upon  a  more 
satisfactory  little  place  if  I  had  had  my  pick  out  of  all  the 
country.  I  have  been  here  seven  months  to-morrow." 

But  a  small  cloud  was  now  rising  which  portended  change 
and  evil  for  the  Church  of  the  Advent.  The  congregation 
was  contented  with  its  rector,  and  the  gentlemen  who  had 
visited  Sharon  Mission,  near  the  seminary,  to  hear  him  had 
been  justified  in  their  report  that  he  was  the  man  for  the  place. 
Never  in  the  history  of  the  church  had  the  attendance  been 
so  large.  All  would  have  been  well  but  for  the  appearance 
one  Sunday  of  two  mysterious  strangers  who  came  to  listen 
to  the  preacher.  He  had  been  only  seven  months  in  the 
parish,  and  yet  his  reputation  had  spread  beyond  its  bounds. 
These  two  strangers  were  gentlemen  from  Cincinnati,  who 
came  prepared  to  give  him  a  call  from  St.  John's  Church, 
which  they  represented,  empowered  to  act  after  hearing  him. 
Already  had  he  declined  one  call  from  St.  Stephen's  Church, 
in  Harrisburg,  without  hesitation,  feeling  sure  that  he  was 
rightly  placed.  But  this  call  from  St.  John's  Church,  Cin- 
cinnati, made  vacant  by  the  departure  of  Rev.  Dr.  Nicholson 
to  St.  Paul's  in  Boston,  became  known  to  his  congregation 
and  was  reported  in  the  daily  papers  of  Philadelphia.  It 
caused  disturbance  in  his  parish  and  in  the  city.  He  was 
obliged  to  consider  it,  for  the  call  was  a  pressing  one,  and  a 
petition  came  from  the  vacant  parish  with  a  large  number  of 
signatures,  and  with  a  statement  that  every  man,  woman,  and 
child  would  sign  it  if  necessary.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Dyer  of  New 
York,  who  was  the  adviser  of  the  Evangelical  clergy  under 
such  circumstances,  recommended  strongly  his  acceptance. 
It  meant  of  course  a  large  increase  in  his  salary,  and  he  had 
already  found  himself  somewhat  hampered  by  the  meagreness 
of  his  income.  But  he  was  not  inclined  to  move  from  his 
position.  With  this  conviction  the  family  at  home  also  coin- 
cided, whom  he  had  at  once  consulted.  So  the  call  was 


MT.  23-24]     THE  EARLY  MINISTRY          345 

declined,  but  it  had  begotten  as  a  result  uneasiness  and  uncer- 
tainty about  the  future  at  the  Church  of  the  Advent.  They 
met  the  emergency  as  best  they  could,  offering  their  rector 
such  additional  attractions  as  were  in  their  power.  Most  of 
the  congregation  were  persons  of  limited  means,  but  they  did 
what  they  could.  The  women  at  once  employed  themselves 
in  carrying  out  long-needed  reforms.  At  their  expense  the 
vestry  of  the  church  was  repainted,  recarpeted,  and  new  furni- 
ture was  added.  The  men  grappled  with  the  long-standing 
debt  of  $8000.  If  this  were  paid  some  $500  would  be  set 
free  to  add. to  the  salary.  In  a  few  months  nearly  $6000 
were  conditionally  subscribed. 

There  is  one  other  incident  which  must  be  mentioned  be- 
fore we  close  the  year's  record.  The  story  of  his  call  to  Cin- 
cinnati had  found  its  way  into  the  newspapers.  From  this 
moment  he  had  become  a  subject  of  interest  to  the  city,  and 
henceforth  his  actions  were  never  again  to  be  free  from  a 
certain  publicity,  —  the  penalty  he  was  to  pay  for  his  great- 
ness. At  first,  as  he  long  afterwards  remarked  to  a  friend, 
he  looked  eagerly  when  his  name  was  in  print  to  see  what 
was  said  of  him,  but  this  feeling  changed,  and  he  became 
grateful  when  he  found  that  he  need  not  be  disturbed.  There 
was  at  this  time,  connected  with  the  daily  papers  in  Phila- 
delphia, a  certain  individual  who  watched  closely  the  ways  of 
the  clergy,  a  self-constituted  censor,  who  feared  that  they 
were  moved  by  mercenary  considerations.  In  particular  he 
had  his  eye,  for  what  reasons  it  is  not  known,  upon  Phillips 
Brooks  and  Dr.  Vinton.  His  tone  in  chronicling  the  event 
of  the  call  to  Cincinnati  is  somewhat  severe,  and  although  it 
had  been  declined  he  still  continued  to  read  his  lecture.  The 
deeper  suspicion  and  distress  of  his  mind  had  not  been 
allayed :  — 

ANOTHER  CALL.  —  The  Rev.  Phillips  Brooks,  rector  of  the 
Advent  (Protestant  Episcopal)  Church,  York  Avenue  and  Button- 
wood  Street,  has  received  and  since  peremptorily  declined  a  call 
extended  to  him  by  the  Church  of  St.  John,  Cincinnati,  which  is 
said  to  be  the  largest  and  wealthiest  church  of  that  denomination 
west  of  the  Alleghany  Mountains.  He  was  receiving  a  salary  of 


346  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1859-60 

one  thousand  dollars  where  he  is  now  stationed,  having  entered 
upon  his  duties  there  but  a  few  months  ago,  direct  from  the 
seminary.  The  pecuniary  complexion  of  the  "call  "  which  he 
has  just  declined  was  an  improvement  upon  this  of  fifteen  hundred 
dollars.  Since  his  declination,  however,  his  own  congregation 
have,  without  his  knowledge,  themselves  made  an  advance  oifive 
hundred  dollars.  .  .  .  Ministerial  calls  were  once  regarded  as 
having  a  tincture  of  the  supernatural  about  them,  which  placed 
their  propriety  above  the  vulgar  scrutiny  of  criticism.  However 
this  may  have  been  sustained  by  facts  in  times  past,  the  public 
opinion,  even  of  the  Christian  community,  is  rapidly  becoming 
heretical  on  this  subject.  Nor  is  it  to  be  wondered  at,  when 
rich  congregations  flatter  themselves  that  the  finest  of  the  minis- 
terial flocks  can  be  rendered  subservient  to  their  beck  and  call  by 
approaching  them  as  if  they  were  no  more  adverse  to  looking  out 
for  lucre  and  Number  One  than  other  people.  Why  does  not  some 
independent  Boanerges  treat  this  growing  heresy  with  the  gospel 
thunder  it  demands?  Let  us  have  the  true  gospel  ethics  on  this 
subject. 

Mr.  Brooks  was  ordained  to  the  priesthood  on  Whitsun- 
day, in  the  morning,  at  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  in  the 
presence  of  his  own  congregation  and  of  his  father  and 
mother  and  brother  George.  He  magnified  the  importance 
of  such  days,  and  this  was  a  great  day  for  him.  Bishop 
Bowman  preached  the  sermon,  Dr.  John  A.  Vaughan  pre- 
sented him,  and  Bishop  Alonzo  Potter  administered  the 
sacred  rite.  In  the  evening  he  preached,  and  his  mother 
listened  to  him  for  the  first  time.  His  brother  George  was 
also  an  attentive  hearer,  drawing  his  own  conclusions. 
George  had  not  yet  been  confirmed,  and  this  delay  was  the 
heaviest  burden  his  mother  carried.  A  few  extracts  from 
his  mother's  letters  written  during  the  first  year  of  his  min- 
istry may  find  here  a  fitting  place.  They  describe  an  essen- 
tial part  of  his  inner  life,  as  they  also  reflect  his  mother's 
feelings :  — 

Thank  yon,  my  dear  child,  for  the  joy  yon  have  given  me  in 
devoting  your  life  to  the  service  of  Christ.  It  was  the  desire  of 
my  heart  from  your  birth,  and  I  gave  you  up  to  Him,  and  I  thank 
Him  for  accepting  my  offering.  My  dear  Philly,  when  I  hear  of 


.  23-24]     THE  EARLY  MINISTRY          347 

your  faithful  labors  in  the  ministry,  I  thank  God,  and  feel  that  I 
have  not  wholly  lived  in  vain. 

I  suppose  you  feel  gratified  that  you  have  had  those  two  calls, 
Philly;  but  don't  let  it  make  you  proud.  Keep  humble  like 
Jesus,  .  .  .  plead  mightily  for  Christ. 

Father  is  very  happy  in  your  success,  and  I  wish  you  could 
know  how  glad  it  makes  your  mother's  heart. 

April  3, 1860. 

We  hear  fine  accounts  of  you  as  a  preacher,  but  especially  as  a 
pastor.  That  is  the  best  of  all.  I  would  rather  you  should  be 
faithful  to  every  soul  in  your  charge,  that  you  may  be  able  to  ren- 
der a  good  account  at  the  last  day,  than  to  have  the  praise  of 
men,  for  that  will  make  you  proud.  Beware  of  it,  Philly ;  I  trem- 
ble for  you.  Spiritual  pride  would  destroy  all  that  is  worthy  in 
you. 

I  cannot  tell  you  how  it  delights  me  to  hear  pleasant  things 
about  you  so  frequently,  and  to  hear  the  best  things  too,  that  you 
are  devoted  and  earnest.  I  had  rather  hear  you  praised  for  holi- 
ness than  for  talent,  though  of  course  that  is  unspeakably  precious 
when  used  in  God's  service.  But,  my  dear  Philly,  let  no  human 
praise  make  you  proud,  but  be  humble  as  the  Master  you  serve, 
and  never  forget  what  an  honor  it  is  to  be  the  servant  of  Christ. 
...  I  heard  of  an  excellent  sermon  you  preached  a  few  Sundays 
ago  on  the  text,  Jesus  the  Mediator  of  the  New  Covenant. 
Preach  Christ  faithfully.  . 

You  seem  to  be  longing  for  the  time  to  come ;  but,  my  dear 
child,  you  cannot  long  to  come  home  more  than  we  all  long  to 
have  you,  and  most  of  all  your  mother.  I  am  beginning  to  count 
the  days,  almost  the  hours.  You  shall  have  your  own  little  room 
again  and  find  yourself  at  home  once  more. 

The  intellectual  life  which  during  the  years  in  the  seminary 
had  found  its  record  in  note-books  was  now  recorded  in  his 
sermons.  They  became  the  receptacle  for  the  deeper  moods 
of  his  spirit,  the  exultant  feeling  and  the  impassioned  will. 
There  was  no  longer  time,  amid  the  pressure  of  work,  to 
note  down  at  his  leisure  the  results  of  his  reading  or  the 
comments  on  the  books  he  read  or  studied.  But  the  habit  of 
reading  and  of  study  had  become  a  permanent  one.  The 
gift  he  possessed  of  going  quickly  to  the  heart  of  a  book  was 
now  invaluable.  At  this  time  he  was  reading  Robertson's 


348  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1859-60 

sermons  with  a  sympathy  and  eagerness  which  those  cannot 
understand  who  to-day  read  them  for  the  first  time,  when 
much  of  their  thought  has  become  diffused  as  an  atmosphere. 
Bushnell's  writings  he  continued  to  read;  but  he  remarks  that 
he  is  not  entirely  in  agreement  with  him.  Much  as  he  gained 
from  both,  he  became  no  imitator,  for  he  was  formed  in  a 
different  mould  and  found  ample  scope  in  the  creative  activity 
of  his  own  powers.  He  laments  that  he  had  discontinued  the 
practice  of  writing  verses ;  he  fears  that  his  life  may  be  sink- 
ing to  prose;  if  he  had  only  the  words  to  speak,  he  is  sure 
that  they  would  be  better  than  any  he  has  yet  uttered.  But 
his  verdict  upon  the  work  of  his  first  year  in  the  ministry  is 
given  in  verse :  — 

I  wrote  in  verse  from  time  to  time, 

With  artful  thought  or  stilted  pea, 
When  sense  was  servant  unto  rhyme, 

As  angels  serve  presumptuous  men. 

I  hope  that  truth  has  grown  more  true, 

And  reverence  grown  more  sincere, 
And  duty  garnered  strength  anew, 

In  these  last  harvests  of  the  year. 

I  think  that  God  has  given  me  looks 

A  little  deeper  into  things 
That  once  were  words  in  folded  books, 

But  now  are  truths  existence  sings. 

He  followed  with  sympathy  his  brother  Frederick,  as  he 
entered  Harvard  College,  communing  with  him  more  freely 
in  his  letters  than  with  others,  because  they  stood  to  each 
other  almost  as  teacher  and  pupil,  —  a  relationship  which 
bespoke  naturalness  and  simplicity  and  reality.  Thus  was 
he  moved  to  write  these  lines  on  Harvard,  when  Frederick 
became  an  undergraduate :  — 

I  love  thee :  every  stone  is  dear 

With  some  strange  dearness  it  has  won; 

God  bless  thee,  Harvard,  year  by  year, 
God  bless  thee  till  thy  work  is  done. 


JET.  23-24]    THE  EARLY   MINISTRY          349 

For  thou  hast  work  that  waits  to  do, 
To  build  our  country's  scholar  youth; 

God  make  thee  fit,  God  make  thee  true, 
Increase  thy  faith  in  all  His  truth. 

Brother,  my  heart  is  all  with  thee; 

Go,  ripen  to  the  perfect  man; 
Let  month  by  month  successive  see 

The  working  of  God's  gracious  plan. 

Some  extracts  from  the  note-book  of  this  year,  which  con- 
tains but  few  entries  as  compared  with  previous  years,  will 
be  seen  to  throw  light  upon  his  attitude,  as  also  they  indi- 
cate that  he  has  attained  a  greater  maturity  and  firmness. 
The  undogmatic  character  of  his  mind  is  here  apparent,  the 
capacity  for  fine  distinctions  and  for  the  discernment  of  re- 
lations not  obvious.  He  is  living  beneath  the  surface  of 
ordinary  thought,  and  is  especially  impressed  with  the  ram- 
ifications and  mutualities  of  truth  in  all  its  varied  aspects. 

The  great  good  of  reading  history  or  biography  is  to  get  a 
glimpse  of  men  and  nations  and  ages  doing  their  duty;  the  great 
gain  to  be  got  from  it  is  a  deeper  worship  and  reverence  for  duty 
as  the  king  and  parent  of  all  human  life. 

What  a  relief  the  purely  intellectual  is  sometimes !  Stripping 
off  pride  and  prejudice,  and  dogmatism  which  is  the  growth  of 
them,  keeping  the  soul  at  rest  for  a  little  while ;  just  for  a  little 
while  letting  the  mind  be  master  and  pursue  in  purest  dominion 
its  own  peculiar  way.  It  does  rest  the  tired  soul  and  give  it  time 
for  refreshment. 

I  count  much  on  the  feeling  that  we  still  own  to  whenever  we 
read  a  noble  thought,  though  it  were  written  a  thousand  years 
ago,  and  has  lain  silent  where  we  find  it  ever  since,  that  as  surely 
as  it  is  genuinely  true  and  noble,  it  will  yet  take  in  the  world,  and 
men  shall  yet  hear  and  feel  it,  though  it  be  not  till  years  and 
years  after  we  are  dead. 

Is  not  all  positiveness  of  necessity  partiality?  To  say,  "This 
is  true,  I  know  it,"  and  leave  no  room  for  the  limitations  and 
qualifications  that  we  cannot  know,  for  all  those  outside  influences 
of  unseen  truth  which  we  must  be  working  on  and  drawing  from 
this  fact  that  we  have  found,  —  is  there  not  some  folly  here  ?  Is 


j5o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1859-60 

not  the  true  wisdom  something  like  this  ?  I  know  so  far  as  it 
goes  this  truth  is  sacredly  and  wholly  true,  hut  that  very  truth 
forbids  me  to  believe  that  it  has  not  developments  and  ramifica- 
tions reaching  far  out  into  the  universe  of  associated  truth  with 
which  it  is  connected.  Now  I  know,  and  I  prize  my  knowledge 
as  the  gift  of  God  and  hold  it  sacred;  hut  "I  know  in  part,"  I 
wait  till  that  which  is  in  part  shall  be  done  away. 

We  are  apt  to  forget  that  every  life  has  many  minute  ramifica- 
tions in  addition  to  the  few  which  biography  can  trace.  (Cf .  Mas- 
son's  Life  of  Milton,  i.  p.  477.)  And  so  has  not  every  thought 
and  every  doctrine  countless  "  minute  ramifications  "  that  we  never 
trace?  We  are,  indeed,  very  little  masters  of  the  thoughts  we 
think,  hardly  more  than  the  biographer  is  master  of  the  life  he 
writes.  And  yet  all  these  "ramifications  "  are  real  full-blooded 
relationships,  connecting  this  thought  of  ours  with  other  thoughts 
and  other  families  of  thoughts,  binding  this  doctrine  of  ours  to 
unguessed  doctrines,  and  it  may  be  unguessed  heresies ;  and  by 
and  by  this  relationship  begins  to  work,  and  we  find  ourselves  in- 
volved in  all  the  family  tangle  of  the  households  into  which  our 
hearts  have  wedded. 

"In  such  a  scene  as  this  (the  gigantic  and  luxuriant  nature 
of  Church's  Heart  of  the  Andes)  man,  with  his  little  red-roofed 
speck  of  distant  hut  and  even  at  his  wayside  worship  before  the 
crucifix,  dwindles  into  puny  insignificance."  So  says  an  English 
paper.  But  no.  Hut  and  crucifix  are  expressions  of  truth  nobler 
and  purer  than  the  sensuous  beauty  of  tropical  tree  miracles  and 
snow- topped  mountains.  The  truth  of  home  and  the  truth  of 
worship,  they  are  greater  in  the  least  expression  of  them  than 
Nature's  grandest  glory  or  highest  tribute  to  her  Maker's  praise. 
They  are  conscious,  intelligent,  spiritual  ascriptions,  doing  intel- 
ligent and  conscious  duty;  and  so  material  beauty  can  but  borrow 
soul  from  such  as  they,  and  so  must  always  be  insignificant  with- 
out them. 

The  world  ruled  and  managed  so  often  by  its  little  and  not  its 
greater  men.  Is  it  not  the  same  principle  that  reappears  when 
a  weaker  and  not  a  stronger  motive  settles  our  conduct,  when  a 
slighter  and  not  a  more  weighty  argument,  or  when  a  whim  and 
not  an  argument  at  all,  decides  our  belief? 

How  fortunate  that  ideas  are  not  confined  in  their  development 
to  the  developing  capacity  of  the  mind  that  first  conceives  them. 
That  need  furnish  only  the  conception,  hard,  arid,  it  may  be,  in 
the  first  discerner's  mind,  capable  only  of  hardness  and  aridity. 


MT.  23-24]     THE  EARLY   MINISTRY          351 

But  another  mind  gifted  with  the  power  of  development,  which 
next  to  creation  is  the  greatest  power  God  gives  to  man,  catches 
up  the  new  conception,  takes  it  home,  and  gives  it  its  own 
warmth,  and  so  it  buds  and  blossoms  into  forms  of  beauty  that 
we  never  dreamt  of,  and  that  the  man  who  first  conceived  it 
dreamt  of  still  less.  Truly  God's  ways  of  making  men  do  their 
own  and  others'  work  are  thousandfold. 

It  seems  sad  and  strange  to  see  how  now  and  then  in  history, 
now  and  then  even  at  the  present  day,  must  come  protests  of  the 
soul  against  the  Christian  church.  It  is  not  strange  if  we  look 
at  it  rightly.  I  do  not  think  that  it  is  even  sad.  It  is  the  best 
and  purest  part  of  human  nature  crying  out  against  the  false  hu- 
manities that  have  fastened  themselves  upon  a  system  whose  di- 
vinity they  cannot  cloak,  but  whose  efficacy  they  deform.  I  do 
not  think  that  it  is  sad,  for  in  it  I  see  a  new  wonder  of  the  care 
of  God,  that  has  arrayed  against  the  possible  falsifications  of  His 
truth,  the  inherent  truth  and  earnestness  of  moral  life ;  because  I 
see  in  it  new  room  to  think  that  the  church  thus  cared  for,  whose 
purification  has  thus  been  thought  worthy  of  the  wisdom  of  Omni- 
potence, has  surely  high  and  holy  work  to  do  on  earth,  and  till 
that  work  be  done  I  shall  live  to  do  it.  I  look  on  it  as  I  look 
on  the  divinity  of  government,  made  more  certain  by  the  earnest 
remonstrances  against  governmental  baseness,  which  are  God's 
means  to  fasten  governmental  purity  upon  the  earth.  God's 
evident  care  proves  to  me  that  both  shall  be  perpetual  and  ulti- 
mately pure. 

Beginning  to  allow  ourselves  insincere  pretensions  of  belief  is 
like  beginning  to  take  opium;  it  is  a  pleasant  and  a  soothing 
thing  at  first;  it  even  girds  us  with  gorgeous  visions  and  gives 
the  soul  a  little  elysium  for  a  while.  But  you  have  to  increase 
your  dose  every  day,  you  have  to  stifle  your  nature  more  continu- 
ally under  its  control ;  and  after  all,  there  comes  at  last  that  ter- 
rible rebellion  of  your  nature,  your  soul  protesting  against  the 
violence  you  do  it,  and  a  whole  hell  within  of  groanings  that  you 
do  not  dare  to  gratify,  desolations  that  you  cannot  comfort,  and 
a  ruined  moral  nature  wreaking  its  awful  vengeance  on  you,  the 
moral  agent  who  has  ruined  it. 

It  is  a  sad  sign  for  a  man  when  in  his  religion  he  has  con- 
sciously to  repeat  himself,  to  go  back  after  old  impressions  and 
vamp  them  up  for  new  ones.  The  freshness  of  spiritual  expe- 
rience, not  necessarily  every  impression  unanticipated  and  wholly 


352  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1859-60 

new,  but  at  least  each  one  newly  suggested,  not  laboriously  re- 
called. 

The  power  of  drawing  comfort  and  strength  from  thoughts 
seems  to  be  not  primarily  at  work,  but  developed  by  natural 
growth.  The  consciousness  of  such  a  power  comes  later  with 
fuller  and  harder  and  yet  no  very  extraordinary  mental  culture. 
But  the  ability  to  regulate  and  use  that  power  marks  the  consum- 
mate self-mastership  that  is  brought  only  with  a  perfectly  ripened 
moral  and  mental  nature. 

"As  a  Christian,  humiliation  before  God  was  a  duty  the  meaning 
of  which  he  knew  full  well ;  but  as  a  man  moving  among  other 
men,  he  possessed  in  that  moral  seriousness  and  stoic  scorn  of 
temptation  which  characterized  him  a  spring  of  ever  present 
pride,  dignifying  his  whole  bearing  among  his  fellows  and  at 
times  arousing  him  to  a  kingly  intolerance."  (Said  of  Milton,  Mas- 
son,  i.  237.)  The  two  perfectly  compatible,  and  their  compat- 
ibility solving  many  a  problem  which  I  have  often  felt,  and  which 
seems  to  be  at  the  bottom  of  much  uncharitableness  on  both  sides 
at  the  present  time. 

Oh,  when  the  heart  thoroughly  and  heartily  blesses  another  out 
into  a  noble  work,  how  its  blessing  bounds  back  upon  itself !  God 
help  my  brother's  energy!  and  I  am  more  energetic  myself  for 
good.  God  help  his  courage !  and  straightway  I  have  won  a  por- 
tion in  his  hope.  God  deepen  and  refine  his  holiness  and  truth ! 
and  I  find  a  blessing  from  God  making  me  more  true  and  holy  in 
my  own  poor  heart. 

He  was  reading  at  this  time  Quinet's  "Histoire  de  mes 
Ide*es,"  and  quotes  this  passage  as  expressing  his  own  expe- 
rience :  — 

Ce  que  j'ai  aime*  je  1'ai  trouve"  chacque  jour  plus  aimable. 
Chacque  jour  la  justice  m'a  para  plus  sainte,  la  liberte*  plus  belle, 
la  parole  plus  sacre*e,  Tart  plus  r£el,  la  realitd  plus  artiste,  la 
po&ie  plus  vraie,  la  verite*  plus  poe'tique,  la  nature  plus  divine, 
le  divin  plus  naturel. 


CHAPTER  XI 

1860-1861 

THE    BEGINNING   OP  THE    CIVIL    WAR.      THE    CALL    TO    THE 
CHURCH  OF  THE  HOLY  TRINITY  IN  PHILADELPHIA 

DURING  the  month  of  August  Mr.  Brooks  was  in  Boston 
for  his  holiday,  enjoying  every  moment  of  his  leisure  with  his 
own  peculiar  intensity.  It  was  the  rest,  however,  of  activity, 
for  he  could  not  be  inactive.  He  preached  at  St.  James', 
Roxbury,  and  at  St.  Mary's,  Dorchester,  creating  the  same 
strange  impression  of  his  power  that  had  been  felt  at  once  in 
Philadelphia.  Much  of  the  time  was  spent  in  North  Ando- 
ver  at  the  old  Phillips  homestead.  Frederick  was  now  a 
Sophomore  at  Harvard,  Arthur  was  in  the  Latin  School, 
carrying  off  the  prizes  which  his  older  brother  did  not  win, 
and  John,  the  youngest,  was  a  boy  of  eleven.  Phillips  occu- 
pied his  old  room  in  the  house  on  Chauncy  Street,  which  his 
mother  kept  as  he  had  left  it  when  he  first  went  from  home, 
allowing  nothing  to  be  changed.  To  this  home  he  returned 
with  the  consciousness  of  power  and  success,  and  the  con- 
viction of  greater  results  to  be  achieved.  A  photograph  of 
the  whole  family  was  taken  at  this  time,  before  death  had 
made  any  breach  in  its  ranks,  the  father  and  the  mother  in 
the  centre  with  the  boys  grouped  around  them.  Phillips  was 
among  them  in  an  idle,  careless  pose,  his  eyes  cast  down  with 
an  amused  expression,  his  face  turned  to  one  side,  giving 
the  beauty  and  symmetry  of  his  head.  The  record  of  these 
days  at  home  shows  him  at  his  familiar  haunts  whenever  he 
had  the  opportunity, —  the  Athenaeum  and  the  Public  Library. 
He  also  wrote  his  sermon  to  be  preached  on  the  first  Sunday 
after  the  vacation  should  be  over.  This  was  one  of  his  char- 
acteristics to  be  ready  for  duty,  and  to  make  his  preparation 


354  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [i 860-61 

some  time  in  advance.  It  gave  the  false  impression,  how- 
ever,  that  he  did  not  require  to  work  as  others,  for  when  they 
were  in  the  toils  of  anxiety  about  their  work  he  was  free,  and 
seemed  to  have  nothing  to  do. 

When  he  returned  to  Philadelphia  on  the  first  Sunday  in 
September,  he  found  the  same  large  congregations  awaiting 
him,  but  he  remarked  that  they  were  mostly  strangers.  He 
returned  to  take  up  his  work  with  new  vigor  and  enthusiasm. 
The  year  that  now  followed  was  prolific  in  sermons,  each 
week  seeing  the  completion  of  two ;  he  was  determined,  if  he 
could  help  it,  not  to  repreach  an  old  sermon.  In  addition  to 
new  sermons  on  Sunday,  he  gave  a  weekly  lecture  in  the 
church  on  Wednesday  evenings,  and  on  Saturday  evening  he 
met  a  large  Bible  class,  composed  of  members  of  his  congre- 
gation. To  his  Sunday-school  he  gave  a  large  part  of  his 
time  and  interest,  speaking  of  the  pleasure  it  was  to  him  to 
look  upon  their  young  fresh  faces.  He  made  special  pre- 
paration for  their  anniversaries,  and  excelled  in  talking  to 
children.  He  pressed  his  friend  Mr.  Strong  into  their  ser- 
vice, by  getting  him  to  write  special  hymns  for  their  use. 
The  church  was  full  of  life  and  interest,  shown  by  the  heroic 
efforts  to  raise  the  debt  which  harassed  and  crippled  it. 

He  was  at  last  making  some  systematic  effort  in  the  line  of 
physical  exercise.  In  college,  as  we  have  seen,  he  took  none, 
nor  during  his  years  at  the  seminary.  Both  his  father  and 
mother  urged  its  importance.  His  frequent  illnesses  at 
Alexandria  may  point  to  some  physical  weakness,  at  least  he 
had  not  yet  attained  that  physical  strength  and  endurance 
which  marked  him  in  later  years,  when  he  did  not  know 
what  illness  was,  or  what  it  was  to  be  tired.  But  in  this 
second  year  in  the  ministry,  as  in  the  first,  he  frequently  com- 
plains of  being  "fearfully  tired."  The  Sunday  work,  the 
writing  of  the  sermons,  even  the  Bible  class  exhausted  his 
strength.  In  the  midst,  too,  of  all  his  friends  he  alludes  to 
his  loneliness  and  to  a  sense  of  depression.  When  he  got 
back  to  Philadelphia  he  speaks  of  being  troubled  with  "blue 
spots "  as  he  thinks  of  home.  In  many  of  the  letters  he 
writes  he  opens  with  apologies  for  delay.  These  things  are 


MT.  24-25]    BEGINNING  OF  CIVIL  WAR    355 

mentioned  because  they  disappeared  so  entirely  from  his  later 
years,  when  he  was  in  the  fulness  of  his  power,  that  it  seems 
surprising  they  should  ever  have  been.  Beneath  the  changes 
there  was  a  great  moral  effort.  He  had  resolved  upon  regu- 
lating his  life  in  little  things  and  in  minor  details  upon  some 
ideal  of  conduct,  —  the  provision  of  things  beautiful  in  the 
eyes  of  all  men. 

At  this  time  the  moral  resolve  began  to  be  apparent. 
Despite  the  fact  of  producing  two  sermons  a  week,  his  hand- 
writing does  not  deteriorate,  but  improves.  It  had  always 
been  good,  though  often  showing  the  signs  of  haste  and  at 
times  illegible.  Now  it  was  becoming  uniform  and  graceful, 
even  artistic.  He  reads  his  brother  Frederick  a  vigorous 
lecture  on  the  defects  of  his  handwriting:  "My  dear  brother, 
what 's  the  use  of  letting  your  handwriting  go  to  wrack  and 
ruin  in  this  desperate  way?  I  get  a  good  many  shameful* 
looking  letters,  but  I  think  I  've  hardly  had  one  more  per- 
fectly outrageous  in  its  penmanship  than  this  of  yours.  Ex- 
cuse my  saying  so,  but  it 's  the  truth." 

When  he  reached  the  age  of  twenty-five  on  the  13th  of 
December,  1860,  he  records  his  weight  as  one  hundred  and 
ninety-five  pounds.  But  with  his  great  height,  he  still  gave 
the  impression  of  being  slender  in  his  figure.  As  his  form 
began  to  fill  out  with  the  additional  weight,  there  came  a 
new  and  unexpected  ease  and  grace  of  manner,  which  seemed 
in  keeping  with  the  inward  spirit.  There  was  now  apparent 
an  exquisite  physical  symmetry  and  a  manly  beauty,  which 
called  for  comment  and  description  as  much  as  did  his  power 
in  the  pulpit.  There  was  here  the  physical  basis  of  oratory, 
but  there  was  something  more,  —  the  outer  man  became  the 
reflection  of  the  inward  grace  and  endowment. 

He  had  hardly  been  a  year  in  the  ministry  when  already 
he  was  known  to  more  than  local  fame,  as  evidenced  in  the 
demand  for  his  services.  While  still  in  deacon's  orders  he 
had  been  called  to  churches  in  Cleveland,  in  Harrisburg,  Pa., 
and  in  Cincinnati.  Hardly  had  he  begun  his  second  year  in 
the  Advent  when  other  loud  and  pressing  calls  were  received, 
which  it  was  at  least  necessary  he  should  consider.  There 


356  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [i  860-61 

was  one  from  Providence,  R.  I.  Then  came  Governor  Gibbs 
of  the  same  State,  bearing  a  call  from  Trinity  Church,  New* 
port,  followed  by  a  committee  who  urgently  advocated  his 
acceptance.  Still  a  third  call  came  from  San  Francisco,  with 
the  tempting  salary  of  five  or  six  thousand  dollars,  inwardly 
appealing  to  him,  because  then,  as  for  many  years  after,  he 
felt  a  strong  desire  to  throw  in  his  lot  with  the  upbuilding  of 
a  new  country.  Thus  from  the  Atlantic  Ocean  to  the  Pacific, 
from  Newport  to  San  Francisco,  had  his  fame  extended. 
There  is  something  to  be  marvelled  at  here  in  the  rapidity 
with  which  the  knowledge  of  him  travelled.  It  was  not  done 
by  advertising  as  in  the  newspapers,  for  there  is  a  limit  to 
what  advertisement  of  a  formal  kind  can  do,  and  his  fame 
had  spread  faster  and  further  than  could  be  accounted  for  by 
such  methods.  He  had  in  some  mysterious  way  touched  the 
very  springs  and  sources  of  human  life.  When  the  ear  heard 
him,  then  it  blessed  him.  People  were  talking  of  him,  and 
spoke  of  him  to  one  another,  in  ways  that  impressed  the  ima- 
gination of  those  who  had  not  seen  or  heard.  The  impression 
thus  made  upon  the  most  sensitive  of  all  modes  of  human  com- 
munication moved  more  quickly  and  surely  to  its  end  than 
postal  facilities,  or  the  power  of  steam  and  electricity.  One 
of  the  things  which  the  historian  Kanke  noted  about  the  post- 
ing of  Luther's  theses  on  the  eve  of  the  Reformation  was  the 
almost  inconceivable  swiftness  with  which  the  knowledge  of 
the  fact  spread  throughout  all  Germany.  So  it  is  when  any- 
thing happens  of  vital  moment  which  it  concerns  humanity  to 
know,  or  when  some  new  prophet  arises  and  God  is  again  vis- 
iting his  people.  But  the  message  was  not  new,  it  was  the 
old  burden,  the  Eternal  Gospel  in  its  moving,  living  appeal. 
These  invitations  to  other  more  attractive  and  possibly 
more  extended  spheres  of  influence,  Mr.  Brooks  had  declined 
under  the  feeling  that,  for  the  present,  his  duty  called  him 
to  remain  where  he  was.  But  soon  there  came  a  call  louder 
and  more  peremptory,  to  which  he  long  refused  to  listen,  and 
then  at  last  accepted.  Already  in  the  fall  of  1860  there 
were  rumors  that  Dr.  Vinton  was  to  leave  Philadelphia.  At 
first  they  took  the  form  that  he  was  to  return  again  to 


MT.  24-25]    BEGINNING  OF  CIVIL  WAR    357 

Boston.  So  insistent  was  the  rumor  that  it  became  neces- 
sary to  deny  it  publicly  before  his  congregation.  But  there 
was  something  in  the  rumor ;  he  was  not  contented  with  his 
position;  domestic  reasons  made  a  change  necessary,  and 
before  long  it  was  known  that  he  had  decided  to  resign  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  to  accept  a  call  to  St.  Mark's 
Church  in  New  York.  Again  he  appears  as  a  factor  in  the 
career  of  Phillips  Brooks,  when  he  recommended  him  as  his 
successor  to  the  parish  he  was  leaving.  Whether  he  had 
recommended  him  or  not,  Mr.  Brooks  would  probably  have 
been  called  to  the  vacant  parish.  He  was  already  well  known 
to  its  people.  If  Dr.  Vinton  had  been  intentionally  prepar- 
ing the  way  for  him  to  the  charge  of  the  church  when  he 
should  leave  it,  he  could  not  have  labored  more  directly  to 
that  end  than  by  the  frequent  invitations  he  gave  him  to 
preach  in  his  own  pulpit,  and  in  other  ways  to  associate  him 
with  the  parish.  Not  only  had  he  preached  there  frequently, 
but  the  congregation  of  Holy  Trinity  formed  a  large  part  of 
his  audience  at  the  Church  of  the  Advent.  It  had  become 
the  fashion  in  Philadelphia  for  people  to  wend  their  way  to 
the  neat  little  church  on  the  corner  of  York  Avenue  and  But- 
tonwood  Street.  "  Crowds  from  all  parts  of  the  city  flocked 
to  hear  his  sermons,  and  it  was  not  an  unwonted  sight  on  a 
Sunday  evening  to  see  the  streets  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
church  filled  with  carriages."  All  through  the  year  1861 
the  question  was  pending  whether  Phillips  Brooks  would 
leave  the  Church  of  the  Advent  for  the  large  Church  of  the 
Holy  Trinity.  In  April,  1861,  Dr.  Vinton  preached  his 
farewell,  and  Mr.  Brooks  was  immediately  invited  by  a 
unanimous  vote  to  take  the  vacant  place. 

It  was  in  the  spring  of  this  year,  1861,  that  the  civil  war 
began.  Events  had  been  rapidly  consolidating  toward  this 
calamity  from  the  time  of  Lincoln's  election.  Mr.  Brooks 
had  recorded  in  his  diary  for  November  6,  1860,  this  sen- 
tence, with  a  line  drawn  about  it  isolating  it  from  other  sen- 
tences to  make  it  appear  as  prominent  on  the  page  as  it 
loomed  up  significant  to  his  mind,  —  "Abraham  Lincoln 
chosen  President  of  the  United  States."  For  the  next  four 


358  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [i 860-61 

years  his  letters,  his  sermons,  his  public  addresses,  show  how 
the  awful  tragedy  and  its  issues  entered  and  quickened  his 
personality.  His  letters  became  a  chronicle  of  the  war. 
They  contain  nothing  new ;  he  had  no  special  source  of  infor- 
mation. There  are  thousands  of  such  letters,  but  these  have 
value  as  coming  from  him.  So  far  as  they  are  used  in  this 
narrative,  it  will  be,  not  to  supplement  histories  of  the  war, 
nor  to  revive  its  painful  memories,  but  as  part  of  the  story  of 
a  life,  sinking  its  individuality  in  the  national  purpose,  till 
the  soul  of  the  nation  seemed  to  pass  into  his  own.  He 
emerged  from  this  experience  with  a  deeper  devotion  to  the 
cause  of  humanity.  He  received  its  teaching  as  a  message 
to  himself,  fusing  all  his  powers  into  one  intense  and  con- 
secrated  endeavor. 

In  one  sense  the  war  gave  him  his  opportunity,  —  an  ade- 
quate opportunity  for  revealing  the  greatness  which  was  in 
him.  He  was  roused  by  it  to  the  highest  pitch  of  enthu- 
siasm; he  became  its  representative  and  mouthpiece  to  the 
city  of  Philadelphia,  as  did  no  other  of  its  citizens,  till  finally 
he  spoke  to  the  country  at  large  in  a  way  to  be  compared  for 
its  effectiveness  with  the  speech  of  Lincoln  at  the  battlefield 
of  Gettysburg. 

These  letters  which  follow  cover  the  first  year  of  the  war, 
and  also  the  time  when  he  was  considering  the  transition 
from  the  Church  of  the  Advent  to  the  Church  of  the  Holy 
Trinity.  From  some  points  of  view  they  tell  but  little ;  they 
give  only  what  he  was  willing  to  give.  The  inward  experi- 
ences which  lay  behind  are  reserved  for  other  occasions. 
They  are  characteristic  letters;  a  certain  boyish  tone  runs 
through  them ;  they  indicate  a  spirit  full  of  happiness,  for 
whom  a  future  with  richer  results  is  waiting.  The  glory  and 
joy  of  life,  the  pleasure  simply  of  being  alive  —  this  consti- 
tutes their  charm;  amid  all  their  reticence  this  was  some- 
thing he  could  not  conceal. 

PHILADELPHIA,  September  17,  I860. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  was  very  glad  to  get  yours  on  Saturday. 
How  good  the  little  photograph  is !  There  it  is  upon  my  mantel- 
piece now.  There  has  been  an  immense  putting  of  the  Brookses 


JET.  24-25]   BEGINNING  OF  CIVIL  WAR    359 

on  to  paper  within  the  last  month.  My  "group  "  is  much  admired, 
and  sets  off  the  room  finely. 

Things  are  looking  well  down  at  the  church.  Our  congrega- 
tions are  larger,  and  what  vacant  pews  are  still  left  are  fast 
renting.  The  vestry  are  about  instituting  a  movement  by  which 
they  hope  to  be  able  to  secure  the  payment  of  the  church  debt 
within  two  or  three  years.  If  they  can  do  it,  it  will  add  $500  to 
our  regular  income.  .  .  . 

I  have  n't  quite  got  over  my  vacation  yet,  but  have  blue  spots 
every  now  and  then,  wishing  I  was  safe  at  home  in  the  back 
parlor  among  the  boys  and  huckleberries.  I  can  only  keep  saying 
"one  of  these  days  "  and  keep  up  my  spirits. 

I  am  counting  on  Fred's  visit  in  the  winter,  and  mean  not  to 
be  disappointed  about  it.  It  will  do  his  health  good.  I  have  no 
doubt  he  can  find  enough  to  see  here  to  employ  him  for  a  couple 
of  weeks.  Don't  think  of  not  letting  him  come.  He  isn't  much 
at  teasing  himself  (witness  the  couch),  so  I  must  do  it  for  him. 
Love  to  all  abundantly. 

September  27,  1860. 

DEAR  GEORGE,  —  Your  politico-fraternal  letter  has  arrived.  I 
am  glad  to  see  your  enthusiasm  keep  up  so  well,  and  that  every- 
thing promises  so  well  to  warrant  it.  You  may  be  sure  that  if 
Colonel  Curtin's  election  rests  on  my  vote  he  will  be  our  next  gov- 
ernor, and  then,  of  course,  Honest  Abe  is  our  next  President.  I  am 
regularly  assessed  and  my  name  on  the  voting  list.  .  .  .  Every- 
body is  talking  politics,  and  it  is  the  exception  when  there  is  n't 
at  least  one  political  procession  within  hearing.  There  go  the 
caps  and  capes  and  torches,  up  Franklin  Street,  through  the  rain. 

The  wigwam  up  at  Sixth  and  Brown  is  open  every  evening,  and 
you  can't  get  into  a  street  car  without  being  reminded  that  it 's 
within  a  few  weeks  of  Old  Abe's  election.  No  danger  of  a  man's 
forgetting  to  vote  in  such  times  as  these.  Almost  all  Advent  go 
with  the  rector.  I  don't  know  but  one  or  two  Democrats  among 
them,  and  hardly  a  Bell  man. 

But  enough  of  politics  till  after  election.  Then  we  '11  send  a 
crow  back  and  forth,  and  I  'd  be  glad  to  have  you  stop  a  week 
with  me  as  you  come  on  to  inauguration. 

I  am  safe  at  work  again;  lost  seven  pounds  already  since  my 
return.  Are  you  at  the  retorts  still? 

PHILADELPHIA,  Saturday  evening,  November  4, 1860. 
DEAR  FATHER,  —  Many  thanks  for  your  kind  letter  of  a  day 
or  two  ago.     I  had  been  thinking  of  writing  to  you  all  the  week, 


360  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [i 860-61 

but  have  not  been  very  well ;  not  sick,  you  know,  but  out  of  sort* 
and  not  able  for  any  work,  headachy  and  so  forth.  I  am  going 
to  break  my  rule  and  preach  an  old  sermon  for  the  first  time  to- 
morrow. It  has  been  wretched  weather,  and  now  it 's  pouring 
horribly.  I  enjoyed  the  little  glimpse  I  had  of  uncle  John  last 
Sunday,  all  the  more  for  its  being  so  unexpected.  ...  I  am 
very  sorry  that  the  prospect  of  getting  home  at  Thanksgiving 
seems  so  slight.  Perhaps  I  may  accomplish  it  some  time  this 
winter.  At  any  rate  I  depend  on  Fred's  visit  as  soon  as  his 
vacation  opens. 

To-day  I  had  a  visit  from  Governor  Gibbs  of  Newport,  R.  I., 
who  came  on  to  offer  me  Trinity  Church  in  that  place  (the  one 
Mr.  Mercer  had).  I  have  not  given  a  positive  answer,  but  presume 
the  look  of  things  will  forbid  my  entertaining  any  call.  What  do 
you  think  of  it  ?  They  offer  $2000  and  a  house.  Not  much  of 
a  congregation  in  winter  and  a  full  church  in  summer.  Dr.  Yin- 
ton  advises  me  not  to  go.  I  don't  think  much  of  it.  I  am  kind 
of  pledged,  though  not  in  so  many  words,  to  see  the  Advent  out 
of  debt  before  leaving.  They  have  almost  $6000  of  the  $8000 
subscribed,  and  most  of  it  is  with  a  sort  of  understanding  that 
things  are  to  remain  as  they  are  for  the  present. 

I  enclose  what  pretends  to  be  a  sketch  of  a  sermon  of  mine, 
which  appeared  in  the  "Press  "  this  morning.  I  think  there  is  no 
vanity  in  saying  that  the  reporter  has  made  a  wretched  jumble  of 
it.  It  was  n't  much  of  a  sermon,  but  it  was  better  than  that. 
Still,  you  may  like  to  see  his  account. 

Friday  evening,  December  7,  1860. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  There  will  be  no  time  to-morrow,  so  you 
shall  make  sure  of  it  to-night.  Right  into  winter  again  and 
everything  as  disagreeable  and  bleak  as  it  can  be.  Everybody 
blue,  and  prospects  generally  discouraging.  What  a  time  you  had 
in  Boston,  Monday!  I  see  Sanborn  was  in  the  thick  of  it.  I 
don't  believe  in  John  Brown,  but  I  don't  believe  either  in  that 
way  of  choking  down  free  speech.  It  looks  too  much  like  the 
way  they  have  of  doing  things  down  in  South  Carolina.  What 
do  people  up  there  say  about  the  message?  Poor  old  J.  B.  [Pre- 
sident James  Buchanan.]  He  's  on  his  last  three  months  luckily. 

December  21,  1800. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  — .  .  .  You  '11  get  this  in  plenty  of  time  to 
wish  you  all  a  Merry  Christmas.  I  would  give  a  good  deal  to 
have  a  share  in  the  family  turkey,  but  it  is  no  use.  I  am  going 
to  eat  mine  at  Dr.  Vinton's.  I  wonder  if  it 's  really  a  whole 


.  24-25]    BEGINNING  OF  CIVIL  WAR    361 

year  since  last  Christmas.  How  they  do  go!  Since  the  last 
time  I  wrote  I  have  had  another  birthday.  You  know  I  am  a 
quarter  of  a  century  old.  It  went  off  quietly,  and  I  felt  inclined 
to  say  very  little  about  it.  The  Newport  matter  has  been  up 
again.  Last  Sunday  there  was  a  committee  on  here,  and  they 
came  to  see  me  on  Monday.  Mr.  Abbot  Lawrence  and  Dr. 
Ogden  of  New  York.  I  sent  them  home  again  on  Tuesday. 
They  represent  things  in  a  pretty  bad  way  there.  I  tried  to  get 
them  to  call  Dr.  Richards. 

So  the  Union  's  gone  if  South  Carolina  has  the  right  to  go; 
but  I  believe  we  shall  see  brighter  times  yet,  and  don't  believe 
the  country  five  years  hence  will  repent  of  the  Republican  victory 
of  1860.  Do  you? 

Saturday,  January  6,  1861. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  It 's  late  Saturday  night,  and  I  'm  just  home 
from  Bible  class,  pretty  tired,  but  you  shall  have  your  letter 
before  you  go  to  bed.  Till  Massachusetts  secedes,  and  the  postal 
arrangements  are  stopped,  you  may  depend  upon  me  pretty  regu- 
larly. Yesterday,  Fast  Day  was  pretty  generally  kept  here. 
Almost  all  the  churches  were  open.  We  had  service  at  Advent, 
but  not  sermon.  I  understand  Dr.  Via  ton  preached  a  great 
sermon.  ... 

Chase  (of  the  "Advertiser  ")  was  here  the  other  day.  He  spent 
Sunday,  and  returned  a  week  ago.  It  was  all  Cambridge  over 
again  while  I  saw  him.  He  represents  things  out  there  [at  C.] 
as  being  in  rather  a  bad  way.  Strong  is  to  preach  to-morrow  at 
Medford  in  answer  to  a  call  there.  I  presume  you  will  see  him. 
He  preached  for  me  last  Sunday  morning.  To-morrow  morning  I 
am  going  to  preach  a  New  Year's  sermon  from  Exodus  xiv.  19,  and 
in  the  evening  repeat  a  sermon  which  I  preached  some  time  ago, 
from  Is.  xxx.  15.  Somebody  sent  me  to-day  a  paper  with  some 
verses  on  an  old  sermon  of  mine  which  I  believe  you  read  last 
summer.  They  are  in  the  "Protestant  Churchman"  of  Decem- 
ber 15.  Have  you  any  idea  who  wrote  them  ? 

Have  you  read  the  "  Glaciers  of  the  Alps  "  ?  I  am  reading  it 
and  like  it.  "Friends  in  Council  "  is  an  old  favorite  of  mine,  and 
its  mate  "Companions  of  my  Solitude."  .  .  . 

Friday  evening,  February  8,  1861. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  have  been  wanting  to  write  ever  since  my 
return,  but  this  week  has  been  overcrowded  with  all  kinds  of  busi- 
ness, and  I  have  had  no  time.  Fred  wrote  a  day  or  two  ago 
and  told  you,  I  believe,  all  about  our  journey  and  arrival.  Since 


362  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [i  860-61 

then  the  parish  has  been  feasting  him  to  his  heart's  content, 
and  I  think  he  has  been  enjoying  himself  to  his  heart's  content. 
He  is  n't  very  enterprising  in  sight-seeing,  seems  to  prefer  the 
armchair  and  fire,  and  I  haven't  had  much  time  to  go  about 
with  him,  but  I  believe  he  is  getting  along  pretty  well  with  the 
Lions. 

But  what  I  wanted  particularly  to  say  is  that  we  expect  you  to 
come  on  after  him  next  week.  Tou  need  it,  and  so  do  we. 
Make  your  plans  to  spend  Sunday,  the  17th,  with  us,  and  you  shall 
get  a  hearty  welcome  and  all  the  enjoyment  I  can  scare  up. 
Now,  father,  don't  disappoint  me  about  this.  Fred  and  I 
have  both  set  our  hearts  upon  it,  and  when  I  saw  the  man  at  the 
Continental  the  other  day  he  looked  just  as  if  he  had  a  room  all 
ready  and  waiting.  Don't  disappoint  me,  but  let  me  know  as 
soon  as  possible  just  when  I  may  expect  you.  I  count  upon  your 
coming.  Don't  let  it  fail.  Fred  isn't  much  of  a  traveller  and 
will  be  all  the  better  for  your  escort  home. 

There  is  no  news  here.  The  parish  seems  to  be  going  on 
smoothly,  at  any  rate  the  houses  are  still  full  and  the  people 
apparently  interested. 

Monday,  February  25, 1861. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  What  do  you  think  of  the  President-elect's 
sudden  run  from  Pennsylvania  hospitalities  ?  Next  week  at  any 
rate  is  close  upon  us,  and  then  "we  shall  see  what  we  shall  see," 
in  the  words  of  the  late  guest  of  the  Continental.  I  saw  "Abe  " 
on  Thursday.  He  is  a  good-looking,  substantial  sort  of  a  man, 
and  I  believe  he  '11  do  the  work.  At  any  rate  it 's  a  satisfaction 
to  have  an  honest  man  there,  even  if  he  can't  do  much.  The 
tumult  increases  about  Dr.  Vinton's  going  off.  With  the  reason 
he  gives,  I  think  he  is  right  in  going.  I  don't  see  how  he  could 
do  otherwise.  Father  will  tell  you  what  the  talk  is  about  his 
successor.  There  again  "we  shall  see  what  we  shall  see."  What 
a  splendid  day  it  is  to-day,  and  was  yesterday!  We  seem  to 
have  skipped  winter  here,  and  blundered  right  into  the  midst  of 
spring.  Why  can't  you  run  down  and  enjoy  it  with  us? 

PHILADELPHIA,  March  2,  1861. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  have  n't  done  thinking  of  your  flying 
visit  and  dwelling  on  the  enjoyment  of  it.  This  week  has  been 
a  very  busy  one;  all  the  better  no  doubt  for  that,  as  it  has  n't 
given  me  a  chance  to  be  homesick  or  low-spirited.  It  hasn't 
given  me  time  either  to  think  much  about  Holy  Trinity.  That 
whole  matter  is  in  status  quo.  I  have  not  seen  Dr.  Vinton  since 


MT.  24-25]    BEGINNING  OF  CIVIL  WAR    363 

he  left  us  at  the  Continental;  don't  know  whether  he  has  sent  in 
his  resignation.  Certainly  they  will  not  make  any  call  at  pre- 
sent; so  that  my  interest  in  it  or  anybody  else's  is  only  prospec- 
tive. 

I  thank  you  for  your  kind  interest  and  advice  about  it.  I  feel 
the  force  of  all  you  say,  and  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  if 
that  call  or  any  other  one  were  made  to  me  now,  I  should  have 
no  difficulty  in  deciding  against  it.  What  may  turn  up  to  change 
my  mind  I  can't  say,  but  I  don't  anticipate  anything.  If  I 
were  inclined  to  change  and  for  a  larger  parish,  there  is  none 
certainly  that  offers  so  many  inducements  as  the  Holy  Trinity. 
But  I  have  been  thinking  lately  that  if  I  made  any  change  it 
would  be  probably  for  a  smaller  and  not  a  larger  field.  Advent 
looks  all  bright,  but  there  are  some  discouraging  things  about  it. 
Still,  I  shall  probably  stay  there  for  the  present.  You  shall  hear 
when  I  know  more  about  things. 

Saturday,  March  9,  1861. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  — ...  I  am  expecting  Barlow  from  New 
York,  who  was  in  our  class  in  college,  to  come  down  for  a  few 
days  to  make  me  a  visit.  He  will  be  here  early  Monday  morn- 
ing. As  for  this  afternoon,  I  am  tired.  I  have  begun  to  go  to 
gymnasium  every  day,  and  for  the  present  always  come  home 
pretty  well  used  up.  I  do  it  as  a  kind  of  duty  matter,  and  believe 
that  it  has  done  me  good  already.  Do  you  want  to  know  how 
matters  do  at  the  Holy  Trinity?  Dr.  Vin ton's  resignation  has 
been  accepted.  Their  charter  requires  them  to  nominate  a  new 
rector  a  month  before  election.  I  was  nominated  last  Monday 
evening,  and  as  mine  was  the  only  nomination  and  was  unanimous, 
it  implies  an  election.  Several  of  their  vestry  have  called  to  see 
me.  As  to  going  I  am  in  doubt.  There  are  some  strong  rea- 
sons why  I  should,  and  others  apparently  why  I  should  not.  I 
don't  think  the  increased  salary  is  any  object  with  me,  for  I  have 
plenty,  as  much  as  I  ever  want  to  spend,  where  I  am. 

But  the  prospect  of  being  settled  at  once,  and  probably  for  life, 
in  a  field  as  large  and  pleasant  and  promising  as  any  that  one 
could  find  is  certainly  to  be  thought  of.  Though  a  large  parish 
it  is  not  a  hard  one  to  work,  and  has  a  noble  and  efficient  set  of 
men  about  it.  As  to  Advent,  the  look  of  things  this  spring 
makes  me  often  fear  some  other  man  could  do  their  work  better 
than  I  am  doing  it.  Here  's  a  whole  letter  on  this  one  selfish 
point;  but  it  's  on  my  mind  and  you  must  excuse  it.  Let  me 
hear  what  you  think  of  it. 

Yours  affectionately,  PHILL. 


364  PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [i  860-61 

Tuesday  eyeninp,  March  12,  1801. 

MY  DEAR  FRED,  —  I  have  just  got  your  note  of  Sunday  even- 
ing, and  confess  I  hardly  know  what  to  write  in  reply.  It  is  just 
what  I  have  hoped  and  prayed  for,  ever  since  that  Sunday  evening, 
and  yet  we  have  so  little  faith  that  what  we  desire  most  often 
takes  us  by  surprise.  At  present,  my  dear  Fred,  I  can  do  no 
more  than  thank  God  for  you  with  all  my  heart  that  He  has  led 
you  to  a  decision  which  I  know  is  to  be  to  you  only  the  beginning 
of  a  happiness  and  reality  in  life  that  you  have  never  known  be- 
fore. I  know  you  have  not  come  to  the  decision  lightly,  and  I 
am  certain  that  having  decided  it  in  faith  and  prayer  the  blessing 
of  God  will  be  abundantly  upon  it. 

I  think  I  understood  and  sympathized  fully  with  the  difficulties 
that  seemed  to  be  over  your  mind  during  the  conversation  that  we 
had,  and  I  believe  that  if  they  have  been  removed  it  has  been  only 
by  the  Spirit  of  God  leading  you  directly  into  the  truth  of  Christ. 
God  bless  you,  my  dear  Fred,  and  help  you  in  the  life  you  are 
beginning. 

You  will  feel  more  and  more  as  you  go  on  in  it  that  the 
Christian  life  is  the  only  true  life  for  one  to  live.  I  do  hope  and 
pray  for  you  that  you  may  grow  stronger  and  stronger  in  this 
your  first  resolve,  and  so  get  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  truth 
you  have  begun  to  love.  Excuse  the  desultoriness  of  what  I  have 
said.  It  all  amounts  to  this :  I  thank  God  for  you,  and  bid  you 
Godspeed.  Won't  you  write  me  soon  again  and  tell  me  more? 
I  promise  you  my  warmest  interest  and  sincerest  prayers.  God 
bless  yon  and  help  you. 

Your  brother,  PHILL. 

March  25,  1861. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  Three  weeks  already  since  the  new  Presi- 
dent came  in.  I  hope  we  are  going  to  see  something  done  by 
and  by.  What  do  they  say  in  Boston  about  Fort  Sumter? 
Pretty  hard,  isn't  it? 

We  have  been  back  in  snowstorms  again  this  last  week.  Yes- 
terday, though,  was  a  magnificent  day.  Everybody  out  and 
churches  full.  ...  A  week  ago  yesterday  Dr.  Vint  on  preached 
for  me  an  old  Boston  sermon,  "Remember  Lot's  Wife."  Advent 
is  still  prosperous.  Yesterday  we  started  a  branch  Sunday-school 
a  few  squares  from  the  church.  We  began  with  sixty  scholars 
and  ten  teachers.  I  think  it  will  work. 

As  to  Holy  Trinity  I  have  about  concluded  not  to  go,  and 
have  signified  as  much  to  Dr.  Vinton.  I  think  there  are  many 
reasons  why  I  ought  to  go,  but  I  don't  see  how  I  can  properly 


JET.  24-25]    BEGINNING  OF  CIVIL  WAR    365 

leave  Advent  just  now.  I  enclose  you  a  paragraph  that  was 
handed  to  me  yesterday,  cut  from  the  Sunday  "  Dispatch, "  —  a 

"flash  "  paper  of  this  city.  It  shows  how  absurdly  the  thing  has 
been  talked  about  here.  Have  you  read  "Elsie  Venner  "  ?  How 
well  it  closes  and  what  a  smart  book  it  is  all  through.  I  see  the 

"Recreation"  man  is  announced  to  write  for  the  "Atlantic." 
We  shall  have  something  good  there. 

Monday  evening,  April  2,  1861. 

DEAR  FRED,  —  I  am  sure  you  know  that  it  is  neither  neglect 
nor  indifference  that  has  kept  me  from  answering  your  last  let- 
ters more  promptly.  I  hope  you  know  something  of  the  pleasures 
they  have  given  me  and  of  the  interest,  greater  than  I  can  begin 
to  express,  which  I  feel  in  this  great  work  which  God  has  done 
for  you.  It  is  only  that  the  class  of  Lent  has  kept  me  so  unceas- 
ingly busy  that  I  have  not  had  time  before  now  to  sit  down 
quietly  and  write  to  you. 

Doesn't  it  seem  wonderful  always  to  look  back  on  the  way 
that  God  has  led  us,  and  to  trace  back  his  guidance  ever  so  far 
before  we  began  to  have  any  idea  that  we  were  under  it?  How 
completely  it  makes  one  feel  that  the  whole  work  is  in  God  and 
not  in  us,  from  first  to  last  that  He  has  done  it  and  not  we.  And 
how  much  more  than  satisfied  we  are  that  it  should  be  all  His 
doing.  What  a  happy  confidence  it  gives  us  that  as  He  began  it 
in  spite  of  our  indifference,  so  He  can  carry  it  on  in  spite  of  our 
feebleness.  I  am  thankful  that  you  can  write  and  feel  as  you  do 
in  beginning  the  new  life.  God  grant  that  you  may  grow  in 
grace  abundantly  and  fast.  William  wrote  me  the  other  day  of 
what  you  had  told  him.  I  know  the  warmth  and  feeling  with 
which  he  spoke  would  give  you  pleasure.  When  is  your  confirma- 
tion ?  Ours  is  not  till  near  the  last  of  April.  I  expect  about 
fifteen  candidates.  The  Holy  Trinity  matter  is  still  unsettled. 
Good-by.  God  bless  you. 

Monday,  April  9,  1861. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  Spring  is  slow  in  coming,  and  here  we  are 
all  getting  a  little  weary  waiting  for  her.  Easter  Day  was  the 
most  perfect  day  we  have  had  yet.  Yesterday  was  way  back 
in  February  again.  I  am  beginning  to  look  Bostonwards  again. 
Summer  is  not  so  very  far  off,  and  the  other  day  I  had  a  letter 
from  Mr.  B.  T.  Reed,  asking  me  to  preach  three  Sundays  in  June 
at  his  new  chapel  in  Lynn.  I  returned  word  that  I  could  n't 
do  that,  but,  if  he  wished,  would  come  on  and  preach  the  second 
Sunday  (the  9th)  of  June.  So  you  may  look  for  me  about  that 
time  to  be  on  your  hands  for  a  week  or  so.  It  will  make  a 


366  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [i  860-61 

pleasant  trip,  and  the  $20  that  they  give  will  pay  expenses. 
Next  Sunday  I  spend  at  Elizabeth,  and  shall  run  up  to  New 
York  the  first  of  next  week,  but  can't  get  further  that  time.  I 
exchanged  yesterday  morning  with  Dr.  Stevens  at  St.  Andrew's, 
and  saw  Bancroft  there  in  church.  The  Holy  Trinity  matter  is 
fast  approaching  a  settlement.  They  gave  a  call  last  Tuesday 
evening,  backing  it  with  a  long  six-page  letter  from  the  congrega- 
tion  full  of  reasons  why  I  ought  to  come.  Since  then  I  have  been 
down  with  visits  from  them  urging  my  acceptance.  But  I  am 
not  changed  in  my  mind  to  stay,  and  have  a  rough  draft  of  a  let- 
ter in  my  drawer  now,  which  will  be  copied  off  and  sent  next 
week. 

PHILADELPHIA,  April  9,  1861. 

To  THE  VESTBY  OF  THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  HOLY  TRINITY: 

GENTLEMEN,  —  Your  secretary  has  communicated  to  me  the 
vote  passed  at  your  meeting  of  last  Tuesday  evening,  by  which  I 
am  invited  to  become  the  rector  of  your  church. 

I  need  not  tell  you  that  I  have  endeavored  to  give  the  call  that 
earnest,  calm,  and  prayerful  consideration  which  it  deserves.  I 
have  felt  its  importance,  and  you  know  I  have  not  dealt  with  it 
lightly. 

I  feel  confidence  in  thinking  that  most  of  the  members  of  your 
body  already  know  and  appreciate  the  motives  under  which  I  have 
arrived  at  the  decision  which  I  ought  not  to  delay  in  announcing 
to  you. 

The  condition  of  my  present  parish  and  the  circumstances  of 
my  connection  with  it  constitute  the  great  reason  which  has 
brought  the  question  to  a  settlement,  and  which  compels  me  now, 
acknowledging  with  all  my  heart  the  kindness  and  consideration 
which  has  marked  your  proposal  and  all  the  intercourse  that  has 
accompanied  it,  to  decline  the  call  to  the  rectorship  of  the  Holy 
Trinity. 

I  trust  that  it  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  say  how  deep  an  inter- 
est I  feel  in  the  parish  for  which  you  act,  and  how  earnestly  I 
pray  for  its  prosperity,  and  how  confidently  I  look  to  see  it  do, 
under  God,  a  great  work  in  our  Master's  cause. 

Accept,  gentlemen,  personally  the  assurance  of  my  warmest 
regard  and  kindest  wishes.  And  believe  me  very  sincerely, 

Your  friend  and  servant,  PHILLIPS  BROOKS. 

Sunday  afternoon,  April  29,  1861. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  Excuse  my  seeming  neglect  of  late.  I  have 
been  very  busy  and  have  not  found  the  time  to  write.  What 


.  24-25]    BEGINNING  OF  CIVIL  WAR    367 

times  these  are!  Is  n't  it  great  to  see  people  in  our  degenerate 
days  willing  to  go  to  work  for  a  principle  as  our  people  are  doing 
now  ?  How  splendidly  old  Massachusetts  is  doing.  She  has  evi- 
dently got  the  old  blood  left  in  her  yet.  The  feeling  here  is  just 
as  deep  as  ever.  Not  quite  as  much  noise,  but  everybody  doing 
what  they  can.  Our  lecture  room  at  Advent  has  been  a  tailor's 
shop  for  the  last  week,  with  the  ladies  making  clothes  for  the 
volunteers.  This  morning  a  company  attended  service  at  Advent 
and  had  an  appendix  to  the  sermon  for  their  benefit.  To-night 
there  is  to  be  a  baptism  in  Advent  of  two  young  men  who  are 
ordered  off  to-morrow,  and  cannot  wait  till  confirmation  time. 
Everything  now  has  something  to  do  with  the  war. 

Wise  left  town  last  Monday;  his  furniture  has  been  sent  off, 
and  he  will  probably  never  return.  He  made  himself  somewhat 
obnoxious  before  leaving,  and  was  turned  out  half  shaved  from  a 
black  barber's  shop  on  Monday  morning  because  he  used  his 
tongue  too  freely.  His  church  is  in  a  quandary. 

We  see  people  here  from  Baltimore  every  day.  I  met  a  lady 
last  night  just  from  there,  who  said  that  half  the  city  would 
rejoice  to  have  a  U.  S.  army  of  30,000  men  come  and  occupy 
the  city.  Why  don't  they  do  it?  The  administration  will  be 
forced  to  do  it  yet  by  the  strong  popular  pressure.  You  have 
asked  once  or  twice  about  the  Holy  Trinity  and  my  reasons  for 
not  going  there.  I  had  but  one  real  reason,  —  I  could  n't  see 
that  I  could  leave  Advent.  If  I  had  been  wholly  free  I  should 
have  gone,  and  think  from  the  peculiar  nature  of  that  parish  I 
could  have  got  along.  1  don't  know  what  they  will  do.  At  pre- 
sent they  are  all  adrift.  They  say  that  they  can  settle  on  nobody. 
The  names  mentioned  have  been  Dr.  Butler,  Nicholson,  Dr. 
Cummings,  and  Mr.  Eccleston  of  Staten  Island.  The  last  seems 
now  to  have  the  best  chance.  None  of  the  others  can  possibly 
get  a  vote  of  the  vestry.  Dr.  Vinton  preaches  his  farewell  this 
afternoon.  I  am  to  read  for  him.  He  goes  on  Wednesday  or 
Thursday.  Mrs.  Vinton  went  some  time  ago.  The  war  fever 
has  overshadowed  all  these  church  excitements.  I  had  an  offer 
yesterday  to  go  to  San  Francisco,  to  Grace  Church,  salary  from 
$5000  to  $6000.  If  ever  I  move,  I  am  not  sure  but  that  would 
be  a  good  direction,  but  for  the  present  I  said  I  could  n't  think 
of  it. 

I  congratulate  you  on  your  membership  of  the  "  Historical, " l 
and  them  on  their  new  member.  I  know  you  will  enjoy  it,  and 
it  certainly  is  an  honor  to  be  associated  with  such  men.  How  the 
genealogical  fever  will  grow  on  you ! 

1  The  Massachusetts  Historical  Society. 


368  PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [i 860-61 

But  I  only  meant  to  write  a  note.  Franklin  Square  you 
would  n't  know.  It  is  a  drill  yard  from  morning  to  night,  and 
at  this  moment  there  is  a  whole  company  on  the  sidewalk  oppo- 
site to  701. 

PHILADELPHIA,  April  29,  1861. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  The  war  is  inevitable,  and  let  it  come.  I 
repeat  it,  sir,  let  it  come.  It  is  in  vain,  sir,  to  extenuate  the 
matter.  Gentlemen  may  cry,  Peace!  Peace!  but  there  is  no 
Peace !  the  war  is  actually  begun.  We  are  in  the  midst  of  re- 
cruiting and  drilling  and  arriving  and  departing  of  troops.  We 
see  the  Massachusetts  men  as  they  pass  through  on  their  way  to 
Baltimore,  and  in  a  few  hours  we  hear  of  their  being  bruised  and 
beaten  and  killed  in  a  city  that  claims  all  the  benefits  of  being  on 
our  side.  There  can  be  but  one  party  in  the  North  now.  There 
is  but  one  in  Philadelphia.  The  excitement  is  intense.  Several 
young  men  of  my  congregation  have  enlisted  and  are  going  on 
high  religious  motives.  Who  dare  say  that  it  is  n't  his  duty  to 
go  when  the  duty  is  so  urgent  and  the  cause  so  sacred? 

Of  course  nothing  else  is  talked  of  here,  and  it 's  hard  to  fix 
down  to  work  of  any  kind.  I  was  in  New  York  on  Monday,  and 
things  were  the  same  there. 

I  still  expect  to  go  on  in  June.  I  should  have  preferred  to 
take  a  later  Sunday,  but  the  one  I  chose  seemed  to  be  the  only 
one  consistent  with  my  work  here.  Everything  goes  well  at 
Advent.  They  have  just  voted  to  raise  my  salary  to  $2000,  be- 
ginning next  month.  Our  confirmation  has  just  been  fixed  for 
the  15th  of  May.  Till  then  I  shall  be  pretty  busy. 

I  shall  think  of  you  all  to-morrow  afternoon,  and  though  miles 
away,  my  heart  will  give  to  Fred  the  warmest  of  welcomes  into 
the  church. 

Saturday,  May  4,  1861. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  War  still ;  quieter  just  now,  but  yet,  as  we 
all  think,  a  fight  certainly  coming.  How  your  last  letter  bubbled 
and  boiled  with  patriotism !  Is  n't  it  a  grand  thing  to  see  how 
the  mind  of  the  whole  country  has  risen  up  to  the  demand  of  the 
times  ?  Does  n't  it  prove  what,  in  a  long  time  of  peacefulness  we 
are  apt  to  forget,  that  the  heroic  qualities  are  true  elements  in 
human  nature,  and  will  always  be  developed  with  the  recurrence 
of  any  exigency  that  calls  for  their  exhibition  and  employment  ? 
Does  n't  it  renew  and  enlarge  our  faith  in  our  race? 

But  I  'in  not  going  to  write  war  again.  To  be  sure,  there  's 
little  else.  It 's  hard  to  get  away  from  it  in  sermon-writing  or 
letter-writing. 


SET.  24-25]    BEGINNING  OF  CIVIL  WAR    369 

Dr.  Vinton  has  gone.  He  left  Thursday.  I  shall  miss  him 
very  much,  for  I  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  him,  and  valued  his 
society  and  intimacy  very  much  indeed.  I  have  liked  him  more 
and  more  with  all  that  I  have  seen  of  him.  And  it  will  make 
Philadelphia  quite  a  different  place  to  have  him  out  of  it.  He 
gave  me  his  study  table  that  used  to  be  in  Temple  Place,  and  it 
stands  now  between  my  front  windows.  The  Holy  Trinity  is 
still  without  a  prospect.  I  am  to  preach  there  to-morrow  after- 
noon. 

May  13, 1861. 

DEAR  GEORGE,  —  It  has  n't  been  neglect  but  business.  Will 
you  forgive  me  and  let  me  write  as  freely  as  if  I  was  answering 
all  in  good  season  your  kind  letter  of  ever  so  long  ago?  I  hope 
by  this  time,  long  before  this,  you  are  yourself  again  and  hard 
at  work  among  the  Medfordites,  and  I  hope  the  work  is  prospering 
and  you  enjoy  everything  about  the  place  as  much  as  ever.  By 
the  way,  I  expect  to  look  in  upon  you  in  three  or  four  weeks.  I 
have  promised  to  preach  at  Lynn  on  the  second  Sunday  in  June, 
and  you  may  have  your  manillas  ready  any  time  in  the  preceding 
week.  What  of  the  war ?  Isn't  it  grand?  Your  enthusiasm  is 
no  doubt  as  great  as  ours,  and  your  confidence  as  strong  that  just 
the  thing  our  land  has  been  needing  for  ever  so  long  to  clear  it, 
first  of  its  corrupt  government  and  ultimately  of  the  hateful  curse 
of  slavery,  has  come  about  at  last.  The  seminary  is  broken  up 
and  probably  Northern  students  will  never  be  on  its  roll  again. 
Sparrow  and  Packard  have  gone  South,  May  has  returned  North. 
The  Northern  money  that  has  gone  into  those  buildings  is  sunk. 
.  .  .  At  Advent  all  goes  much  as  usual.  I  have  been  busy  getting 
ready  for  confirmation,  which  comes  next  Wednesday  evening. 
There  are  twenty-seven  or  twenty-eight  candidates. 

Saturday  evening,  May  18, 1861. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  The  sermon  is  just  done,  so  you  must  ex- 
cuse a  very  late  note  and  a  very  short  one.  My  next  one  I  hope 
to  deliver  in  person,  for  it  is  only  two  weeks  now  before  I  shall  be 
on  my  way  in  your  direction,  unless  Jeff  Davis  is  in  Philadelphia 
before  that  time,  in  which  case,  as  he  may  like  to  attend  service 
at  Advent  and  hear  what  we  think  of  him  there,  I  should  have  to 
stay  and  tell  him. 

I  had  a  letter  from  Father  the  other  day  full  of  red-hot  war 
spirit  and  making  much  of  Governor  Andrew.  It  seems  after  all 
the  "Courier  "  said  that  his  was  an  election  quite  fit  to  be  made. 
How  well  our  Yankee  general  Butler  comes  out  too.  Massa- 
chusetts is  ahead  yet  in  the  war. 


370  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [i  860-61 

Last  Wednesday  evening  we  had  oar  confirmation  at  Advent. 
Bishop  Potter  officiated,  and  the  church  was  crowded.  There 
were  thirty-one  candidates.  It  is  encouraging  to  feel  that  some 
work  is  doing.  I  have  enjoyed  this  last  year  exceedingly,  and  if 
I  can  only  feel  that  the  people  get  as  much  good  as  I  do  pleasure 
out  of  our  connection,  I  shall  be  well  satisfied. 

Lots  of  love  to  all,  and  tell  them  to  look  out  for  me. 

June  26,  1861. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  have  been  meaning  to  write  to  you  since 
my  return,  but  have  been  pretty  busy  without  accumulating  any- 
thing. We  are  in  the  midst  of  the  hot  term,  many  people  gone 
and  going  out  of  town,  and  things  pretty  generally  stagnated. 
At  such  a  time  one  cannot  work  with  full  spirit,  and  I  am  looking 
forward  to  getting  away  again  for  vacation,  three  weeks  from 
next  Monday. 

The  people  of  Holy  Trinity  are  going  about  the  country  hear- 
ing ministers.  They  are  anxious  to  hear  Dr.  Huntington  [now 
Bishop  of  Central  New  York].  I  have  told  them  I  don't  think 
there  is  any  chance  of  getting  him,  but  they  are  set  on  trying,  and 
so  I  have  promised  to  ascertain  for  them  how  they  can  hear 
him.  .  .  . 

Things  don't  seem  to  get  ahead  much  in  the  war,  do  they? 
This  new  talk  about  compromise  I  am  convinced  will  come  to 
nothing,  but  it  is  a  bad  symptom,  and  ought  to  be  stopped.  I  am 
glad  to  see  that  Massachusetts  has  come  down  handsomely  with 
ten  more  regiments. 

PHILADELPHIA,  Saturday,  June  29, 1861. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  How  hot  it  is !  Don't  expect  much  to-day, 
for  it  's  the  last  hot  day  of  a  long  hot  week,  a  two-sermon  week 
too,  so  that  I  feel  myself  pretty  considerably  written  out.  Sixty 
pages  a  week,  the  thermometer  at  80°,  is  trying  work. 

Has  Boston  quite  recovered  from  my  visit,  and  settled  down 
again  into  its  normal  quiet?  Your  New  York  trip  has  come 
since ;  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  enjoyed  it.  Sorry  to  hear  you 
speak  so  cheerlessly  of  Dr.  Vinton's  new  position.  I  am  afraid 
that  he  has  made  a  mistake.  I  am  in  hopes  now  that  Dr. 
Richards  will  be  called  to  Wise's  parish.  The  vestry  went  on  to 
hear  him  last  Sunday  and  were  much  pleased.  It  will  be  very 
pleasant  for  me  if  they  call  and  he  accepts,  —  two  perad ventures. 

Another  blunder  down  South  yesterday  in  the  death  of  Cap- 
tain Ward.  One  of  these  days,  perhaps,  we  shall  do  something 
to  brag  of,  but  we  don't  seem  to  have  done  it  yet.  What  will 


MT.  24-25]  BEGINNING  OF  CIVIL  WAR    371 

Congress  do  is  the  question.     People  are  getting  dreadfully  poor 
here,  and  even  ministers  are  beginning  to  economize.     Where  will 

it  end? 

July  2, 1861. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  Many  thanks  for  your  kind  letter,  also  for 
the  trouble  you  took  in  finding  out  about  Dr.  Huntington.  I 
have  not  forgotten  that  this  is  the  birthday  of  our  Eldest  Hope. 
Twenty-seven,  is  n't  it?  Offer  him  my  best  congratulations  and 
my  heartiest  wishes  for  twenty-seven  more  happy  new  years. 
Wise's  old  parish  have  been  on  to  hear  Dr.  Richards,  and  have 
concluded  to  call  him.  The  call  will  be  given  this  week.  I  hope 
he  will  accept.  We  are  all  to  have  service  on  the  4th  (July)  by 
Bishop  Potter's  recommendation. 

From  his  mother :  — 

BOSTON,  July  2, 1861. 

MY  DEAREST  PHILLY,  — To-day  is  William's  birthday,  when 
I  had  my  first  child,  and  I  have  been  living  all  day  in  the  past. 
How  full  my  thoughts  and  my  heart  have  been  of  Willy  and  you 
in  your  baby  days.  How  many  recollections  crowd  upon  me  when 
I  look  back  upon  all  the  way  the  Lord  has  led  me  and  realize 
how  solemn  it  is  to  live.  We  naturally  live  so  much  in  the  pre- 
sent that  it  is  good  for  us  sometimes  to  turn  back  to  the  past. 
It  does  not  make  me  feel  sad  but  solemn  when  I  think  how  much 
of  my  time  is  past  and  how  short  the  journey  now.  I  only 
desire  to  travel  it  well  and  peacefully,  until  we  and  the  children 
God  has  given  us  shall  safely  reach  heaven  and  dwell  with  our 
blessed  Saviour  forever.  Oh,  bliss  unspeakable !  .  .  .  Good-by, 
my  dear  child,  for  a  little  longer.  You  '11  be  soon  among  us 
again.  Dinna  forget. 

Your  devoted  and  loving         MOTHER. 

Saturday,  September  14,  1861. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  When  is  the  great  battle  coming  ?  Every- 
body says  now  before  another  week  is  over,  but  I  believe  McClel- 
lan  knows  what  he  is  about,  and  won't  fight  till  he  's  ready,  and 
then  will  whip  them  terribly.  Philadelphia  brags  loudly  of  her 
son  and  has  forgotten  Patterson  in  her  delight  over  McC. 

How  comfortably  the  traitors  are  getting  housed  in  Lafayette. 
Boston  has  contributed  nothing  yet.  You  must  have  some  old 
"  Courier  "  men  that  you  would  like  to  spare  that  you  could  send 
to  keep  our  precious  townsmen  company. 

Monday  morning. 

What  hot  weather  again;  yesterday  was  oppressive,  and  with 
three  services  I  feel  pretty  well  used  up  this  morning.  I  am 


372  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [i  860-61 

quite  in  the  old  rut  again  now,  and  everything  is  going  pretty 
much  as  usual.  I  hear  nothing  from  Holy  Trinity,  though  I  un- 
derstand they  have  made  no  arrangement  yet.  I  preached  there 
on  the  8th,  but  their  head  men  were  all  out  of  town. 

They  say  there  was  a  great  movement  of  troops  from  here  yes- 
terday  towards  Washington. 

Monday  morning,  September  16,  1861. 

DEAR  FRED,  —  I  think  the  upshot  of  your  last  letter  as  near 
as  I  can  make  it  out  is,  Will  I  subscribe  to  the  "  Harvard  "  ? 
Of  course  I  will.  I  am  anxious  as  far  as  it  is  possible  in  this 
benighted  region  to  keep  up  with  the  literary  and  aesthetic  pro- 
gress of  our  land.  So  put  my  name  down,  and  as  soon  as  you 
will  write  and  tell  me  what  the  subscription  price  is,  I  will  trans- 
mit the  funds,  to  be  returned,  of  course,  if  the  machine  does  n't 
run  a  full  year  under  its  new  engineering.  I  must  make  one 
condition,  and  that  is  that  I  am  to  be  kept  informed  monthly  what 
articles  I  am  especially  to  warm  up  over,  as  emanating  from  the 
lineal  successor  of  its  first  editors. 

They  say  the  great  battle  has  got  to  come  this  week.  I  hope 
and  think  that  we  are  ready  for  it,  and  from  all  that  we  can  hear, 
believe  that  under  McClellan  we  may  look  for,  as  he  says,  "no 
more  Hull  Run  affairs." 

Friday,  September  27,  1861. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  — We  are  just  through  the  President's  Fast 
Day,  and  I  have  never  seen  a  week  day  kept  as  it  has  been. 
Our  stores  almost  without  exception  were  closed;  the  churches 
thronged.  We  had  service  at  Advent  in  the  morning,  and  in  the 
evening  and  afternoon  joined  with  Mr.  Cooper's  and  Dr.  Newton's 
congregations  for  union  services.  The  churches  all  three  times 
were  overflowing,  and  unable  to  hold  all  that  came,  and  so  it  was 
with  all  the  churches,  I  believe,  all  over  town. 

I  had  no  sermon,  only  a  short  address.  The  only  restraint  was 
a  feeling  that  I  could  not  speak  out  as  fully  as  I  wished  on  the 
one  great  sin  which  is  beyond  doubt  the  chief  reason  of  this 
calamity  being  on  us,  and  which  has  got  to  be  removed  before  the 
calamity  can  be  lifted  off.  It  is  useless  to  talk  round  and  round 
it,  when  we  know  and  are  sure  that  slavery,  its  existence  in  the 
South  and  its  approval  in  the  North,  is  the  great  crushing,  curs- 
ing sin  of  our  national  life  and  the  cause  of  all  our  evils.  I 
spoke  of  it  freely  yesterday,  and  so  far  as  I  know  without  giving 
offence. 

How  strange  this  continual  mismanagement  is !     What  is  ham- 


.  24-25]  BEGINNING  OF  CIVIL   WAR    373 

pering  our  soldiers  and  statesmen  ?  Another  defeat  and  another 
crave  man  useless  out  in  Missouri,  and  all  apparently  for  want  of 
foresight  and  prudence.  Here  's  a  noble  letter  about  the  war  and 
the  country.  Well,  you  '11  excuse  it,  for  there  is  n't  much  worth 
thinking  or  talking  of  besides  in  times  like  these. 

October  1,  1861. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  have  meant  to  answer  your  last  letter  be- 
fore, but  have  been  pretty  busy.  I  got  last  night  the  "Tran- 
script "  with  its  cut  at .  He  deserved  it,  and  more  too.  The 

man  who  can  insult  a  Northern  congregation  nowadays  by  stand- 
ing up  and  laying  the  whole  blame  of  these  troubles  on  the  North 
deserves  all  the  dislike  and  distrust  he  gets. 

We  are  just  beginning  to  be  stirred  up  here  about  the  election 
of  an  assistant  bishop.  Bishop  Potter  has  called  a  convention 
for  the  23d,  and  the  choice  is  very  doubtful.  Drs.  Butler,  Good- 
win, May,  Morton,  and  Leeds  seem  to  be  the  promising  names. 
Dr.  Stevens  would  stand  a  good  chance  except  that  his  loyalty  is 
spotted.  ...  I  have  received  the  first  number  of  the  new  volume 
of  the  "Harvard"  [magazine],  with  Fred  for  one  of  the  editors. 
He  seems  to  be  holding  up  his  end  of  the  family  rope  well. 

How  bold  we  are  getting  in  Virginia,  taking  possession  of 
deserted  hills  and  shooting  down  our  own  men!  Things  look 
badly  in  Missouri  too.  What  splendid  October  weather  we  are 
having. 

Friday,  October  11,  1861. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  — ...  This  is  a  big  week  in  church  matters 
here,  meetings  of  societies,  etc.  Dr.  Tyng  has  been  making  some 
splendid  speeches,  taking  the  black  bull  by  the  horns  every  time 
he  could  get  a  chance,  but  I  won't  touch  on  that  as  we  both 
vented  our  Abolitionism  abundantly  last  week.  Dr.  Vinton  is 
here,  but  returns  to-day.  I  was  in  hopes  to  have  kept  him  over 
Sunday,  but  he  is  inexorable.  By  the  way,  the  Holy  Trinity  call 
is  coming  the  1st  of  November,  I  understand,  and  Mr.  Coolidge 
having  left  Providence  at  last  I  can  have  that  parish  if  I  want 
it.  Between  the  two  the  choice  is  I  shall  stay  at  Advent.  .  .  . 

Colonel  Wilson's  regiment  went  through  here  the  other  day, 
and  created  a  great  deal  of  attention.  It  was  called  the  best 
equipped  regiment  that  has  passed  through  Philadelphia.  We 
have  had  a  terrible  week  of  rain,  but  this  morning  has  cleared  off 
gloriously,  and  everything  is  looking  beautifully.  I  am  just  going 
out  to  try  to  secure  some  of  the  Bishops  and  other  Big  Boys  here 
to  preach  for  me  on  Sunday. 


374  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [1860-61 

October  29,  1861. 

Mr  DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  Another  defeat  and  another  butchery. 
Where  are  we  drifting  to,  and  when  is  the  tide  to  turn?  I 
have  n't  a  doubt  that  it  will  turn,  but  it  is  tedious  waiting  for  it, 
and  meanwhile  we  are  losing  time  and  men.  Have  you  read  the 
poem  callejl  the  "Washers  of  the  Shroud  "  in  the  last  "Atlantic  "  ? 
It  seems  to  me  very  fine. 

We  have  been  busy  and  excited  this  week  in  the  choice  of  a 
bishop.  The  papers  have  told  you,  no  doubt,  that  Dr.  Stevens 
was  elected.  I  voted  against  him,  and  was  sorry  that  he  was 
elected  simply  because  I  do  not  think  in  the  present  state  of 
things,  and  with  the  prospects  that  are  before  us,  any  man  of 
Southern  sympathies  and  connections,  even  though  he  may  be  just 
now  professedly  loyal,  ought  to  become  the  mouthpiece  of  a  North- 
ern diocese.  However,  he  is  an  able  and  a  good  man,  and  I  shall 
hope  the  best  of  his  administration.  It  was  a  very  long  and 
excited  canvass. 

There  is  nothing  new  in  my  own  church  relations.  I  have  had 
an  interview  with  the  Holy  Trinity  people  in  reference  to  their 
giving  a  new  call,  and  have  discouraged  it,  at  least  until  they  have 
made  trial  of  one  or  two  persons  who  have  been  for  some  time 
before  them.  What  will  be  the  upshot  of  it  I  can't  tell. 

Friday,  November  8,  1861. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  ...  I  went  to  hear  your  senator  last 
night,  Charles  Stunner,  on  the  War.  He  was  n't  very  great. 
He  has  grown  fat  and  clumsy,  and  has  not  the  same  fire  that  he 
used  to  have.  Where  is  the  fleet  ?  Are  we  ever  to  hear  from  it. 
or  has  it  drifted  out  into  infinite  space  or  gone  over  to  secession  or 
gone  down  Armada  fashion  in  one  of  these  gales  ?  I  have  faith  still, 
but  things  look  badly,  especially  in  Missouri.  What  a  pity  that 
Fremont's  removal  came  just  at  this  time,  though,  independently 
of  that,  no  doubt  it  was  a  good  move,  or  rather  it  was  a  bad  one 
ever  to  put  him  there.  .  .  . 

Monday,  November  18,  1861. 

DEAR  FATHER  AND  MOTHER,  —  I  have  resigned  the  Advent 
to-day,  and  shall  accept  the  Holy  Trinity  to-morrow.  You  will 
not  think  it  strange  that  I  have  not  written  you  about  this  before. 
I  wanted  to  have  it  fixed  and  settled  before  I  troubled  you  with 
it  again. 

The  call  from  the  Holy  Trinity  came  two  weeks  ago,  and  since 
then  I  have  been  in  a  wretched  state,  weighing  my  desire  to  stay 
with  the  Advent  people  against  my  apparent  duty  to  go  and  work 
this  larger  field.  I  never  want  to  pass  another  such  two  weeks. 


ALT.  24-25]    BEGINNING  OF  CIVIL  WAR    375 

I  went  on  a  week  ago  to-day  and  passed  two  days  with  Dr.  Vin- 
ton.  After  coming  back  from  there  the  matter  has  had  much 
serious  and  prayerful  thought,  and  has  resulted  finally  in  a  clear 
conviction  that  I  ought  to  go.  The  Advent  people  are  very  much 
hurt  and  very  indignant  about  it.  I  am  sincerely  sorry  to  leave 
them,  more  so  than  I  can  tell,  but  what  can  I  do? 

And  now  about  the  details.  My  resignation  is  to  take  effect 
after  the  first  Sunday  in  Advent.  I  have  n't  the  heart  to  go 
right  to  Holy  Trinity  the  next  Sunday,  and  so  shall  accept  then 
to  begin  the  1st  of  January.  Most  of  the  intervening  time  I 
shall  spend  with  you  in  Chauncy  Street,  if  you  will  take  me  in. 
I  say  "most  "  because  I  may  be  kept  here  a  few  days  after  I  leave 
Advent  to  make  arrangements  about  moving,  etc.,  and  also  be- 
cause I  have  partly  promised  to  spend  the  second  Sunday  in 
December  with  Dr.  Vinton.  At  any  rate  I  shall  be  at  home  to 
keep  George's  birthday  and  Christmas. 

To  THE  VESTRY  OF  THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  ADVENT: 

GENTLEMEN,  —  I  hereby  resign  to  you  the  rectorship  of  your 
church. 

This  charge  was  accepted  by  me  in  response  to  your  invitation 
in  September,  1859;  since  that  time  I  need  not  say  how  sincerely 
and  constantly  I  have  rejoiced  in  the  relations  of  perfect  harmony 
that  have  existed  between  us  and  in  the  evident  blessing  of  God 
upon  our  joint  labors.  Never  has  any  rector  been  privileged  to 
minister  to  a  people  more  kind  and  earnest  and  sympathizing,  or 
to  rely  upon  the  help  of  a  vestry  more  united,  more  cordial,  and 
considerate  in  every  stage  of  his  intercourse  with  them.  After 
such  an  experience  I  cannot  try  to  tell  you  how  deeply  I  feel  the 
painful  necessity  of  severing  our  connection.  I  believe  you  all 
know  that  it  has  not  been  an  easy  task  or  one  determined  on  with- 
out earnest,  long,  and  prayerful  thought. 

But  I  have  been  led  to  see  it  as  my  duty  to  accept  a  field  of 
labor  which  has  been  opened,  and  kept  open,  before  me  by  the 
Providence  of  God.  I  shall  go  to  that  field  in  answer  to  my 
Master's  call,  and  because  I  sincerely  feel  the  summons  comes 
from  Him. 

For  the  Church  of  the  Advent  I  feel  a  love  and  care  that  time 
can  never  weaken.  I  pray  for  its  continual  prosperity,  and  I  look 
with  much  desire  for  the  permanence  of  the  many  close  friend- 
ships I  have  formed  among  you. 

To  the  vestry  I  render  my  most  hearty  thanks  for  all  their 
sympathy  and  help,  for  their  kind  seconding  of  all  my  efforts  and 
anticipation  of  all  my  wants,  and  though  our  official  relation 


376  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [i  860-61 

ends,  I  prize  their  regard,  and  beseech  for  each  of  them  the  best 
blessings  temporal  and  spiritual  that  our  Father  can  bestow. 

It  is  my  wish  that  this  resignation  should  take  effect  after  the 
first  Sunday  in  Advent. 

With  sincerest  regards  and  strong  affection,  I  am,  dear  brethren, 

Your  friend,  PHILLIPS  BROOKS. 

PHILADELPHIA,  November  18,  1861. 

There  are  circumstances  connected  with  Mr.  Brooks's  resig- 
nation of  the  Church  of  the  Advent  which  are  not  mentioned 
in  the  foregoing  correspondence,  or  receive  only  a  slight  allu- 
sion. It  is  evident  that  the  event  was  a  painful  one  to  him 
as  it  was  also  to  his  congregation.  It  was  inevitable,  but 
perhaps  it  would  have  presented  a  more  ideal  aspect  if  in 
leaving  his  first  parish  he  had  been  leaving  it  also  for  work 
elsewhere  than  in  Philadelphia.  For  there  was  here  a  cir- 
cumstance capable  of  the  usual  misinterpretation,  that  he  was 
leaving  one  parish  because  it  was  poor  for  another  because 
it  was  rich.  But  for  nearly  a  year  he  had  kept  the  question 
under  consideration.  Although  he  had  once  formally  de- 
clined the  call,  yet  the  exigent  demands  of  the  larger  church 
would  not  allow  him  to  refuse.  Some  things  also  had  become 
more  apparent  as  the  months  went  by.  His  church  was 
crowded  with  worshippers,  but  they  brought  no  strength  to 
his  parish;  they  came  to  listen,  but  they  did  not  rent  the 
vacant  pews.  He  was  in  reality  ministering  to  the  congre- 
gations of  other  parishes.  If  he  was  to  speak  as  his  soul 
moved  him  to  do,  he  needed  a  stronger  vantage  ground,  a 
more  prominent  position.  If  he  must  preach  to  crowded 
churches,  as  seemed  to  be  even  then  his  destiny,  it  was  better 
to  preach  in  a  church  with  fifteen  hundred  hearers  than  in 
one  with  five  hundred.  A  power  outside  himself  seemed  to 
be  arbitrating  the  issue  for  him.  In  the  spirit  of  humility 
and  of  obedience  he  acquiesced,  but  with  no  sign  of  ambition 
for  self,  or  spirit  of  conceit  and  self-sufficiency. 

It  was  a  hard  and  bitter  experience  for  the  Church  of  the 
Advent.  He  seemed  to  belong  to  them  as  by  the  divine 
right  of  discovery.  They  had  found  him  as  he  preached  in 
the  Sharon  Mission  near  Alexandria,  and  from  afar  had 


Mr.  24-25]   BEGINNING  OF  CIVIL  WAR    377 

descried  his  power  while  all  the  world  was  in  ignorance.  To 
them  he  had  given  the  first  fresh  devotion  of  his  ministry, 
endearing  himself  to  them  by  no  ordinary  faithfulness,  going 
in  and  out  among  them  as  their  very  own.  They  too  in 
return  had  given  him  of  their  best ;  there  was  nothing  they 
would  not  do,  or  attempt  to  do,  to  show  their  affectionate 
appreciation.  But  they  were  paralyzed  by  these  efforts,  one 
after  another,  in  such  rapid  succession,  to  rob  them  of  their 
treasure.  In  the  case  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  they 
were  tempted  to  stand  upon  their  rights,  to  appeal  to  eccle- 
siastical law,  to  refuse  absolutely  to  let  him  go. 

The  change  of  a  clergyman  from  one  parish  to  another  is 
so  familiar  and  commonplace  a  circumstance  that  it  would 
hardly  seem  to  deserve  here  more  than  a  passing  mention. 
But  this  was  a  case  which  probed  the  issue  involved  in  the 
relation  of  pastor  and  people  to  its  deepest  source.  In  the 
early  history  of  New  England  the  principle  had  been  tacitly 
sanctioned  that  the  relationship  could  be  sundered  only  by 
death.  Such  also  had  been  the  understanding  in  the  ancient 
church  when  the  principle  had  been  embodied  in  the  canon 
law.  But  it  had  been  found  an  ideal  too  high  for  realization 
in  this  imperfect  world.  In  the  ancient  church  it  had  passed 
into  abeyance,  surviving  as  a  relic  in  the  order  of  bishops 
only,  and  even  there  it  was  eventually  overcome.  The  Puri- 
tan churches  had  also  failed  to  maintain  it,  one  of  Mr. 
Brooks's  ancestors,  the  Hon.  Judge  Phillips  of  Andover, 
being  among  the  first  to  advocate  a  change  in  the  rule.  But 
when  it  came  to  Phillips  Brooks's  case,  the  call  to  leave  the 
Church  of  the  Advent  for  the  Holy  Trinity,  the  ancient  prin- 
ciple began  to  be  seen  in  all  its  pristine  force  and  beauty.  It 
seemed  to  the  Church  of  the  Advent  as  though  the  tie  bind- 
ing minister  and  people  were  so  sacred  that  it  was  wrong 
and  even  sacrilege  to  attempt  to  break  it,  —  a  sin  against 
both  God  and  man.  But  much  also  was  to  be  said  for  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity.  From  the  time  when  Phillips 
Brooks  first  preached  there,  soon  after  his  ordination,  he 
had  so  won  their  hearts  that  they  had  at  once  fixed  upon  him 
as  their  rector  in  case  Dr.  Vinton  should  leave.  It  had  been 


378  PHILLIPS  BROOKS          [i 860-61 

a  mistake,  his  preaching  there  so  often,  if  he  were  not  fret  to 
become  their  minister  when  they  should  call  him.  Already 
he  was  as  dear  to  them  as  to  his  own  parishioners,  —  the  only 
man  upon  whom  they  could  now  unite,  when  Dr.  Vinton  had 
left  them.  While  they  recognized  the  difficulties  to  be  en- 
countered  in  detaching  him  from  his  devoted  people  at  the 
Advent,  yet  none  the  less  did  their  claim  upon  him  seem  the 
stronger.  At  great  expense  they  had  erected  their  noble 
church  in  the  most  commanding  position  in  the  city,  the 
centre  of  its  life  and  growth.  The  large  building  had  at  once 
been  filled  with  a  congregation  composed  of  prominent  and 
influential  citizens ;  its  social  distinction  and  prestige  was  the 
highest.  If  they  felt  that  these  circumstances  constituted 
any  part  of  their  claim,  yet  they  did  not  give  them  a  fore- 
most place.  There  were  those  watching  the  proceeding  who 
ventured  to  assure  the  young  minister  that  if  he  accepted  the 
call,  he  would  be  regarded  as  mercenary  in  his  motives  or 
ambitious  of  social  recognition.  But  to  the  credit  of  both 
the  claimants  it  must  be  said  that  such  arguments  as  these 
were  only  faintly  urged.  Already  the  high  character  of  Mr. 
Brooks,  apart  from  his  genius  and  other  endowments,  made 
such  things  seem  out  of  place. 

It  had  been  left  by  the  vestry  of  the  Holy  Trinity  Church 
to  one  of  its  members,  the  Hon.  G.  W.  Woodward,  a  judge 
of  the  Supreme  Court  of  Pennsylvania,  to  draw  up  the  docu- 
ment which  should  present  its  cause.  To  the  preparation  of 
this  document,  Judge  Woodward  bent  his  powers  as  an  able 
lawyer,  reviewing  the  situation  in  all  its  aspects.  It  was  a 
masterly  paper,  and  could  not  have  been  without  its  influ- 
ence. It  made  its  impression  on  the  mind  of  Mr.  Brooks, 
but  nevertheless  he  declined  the  call.  These  events  took 
place  in  the  month  of  April,  1860.  Six  months  and  more 
went  by,  and  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  was  still  unable 
to  unite  upon  any  one  as  its  minister,  so  long  as  its  mind  and 
heart  were  preoccupied  with  Mr.  Brooks.  In  November  of 
this  same  year  the  call  was  renewed.  Then  the  Church  of 
the  Advent  was  alarmed,  for  the  danger  was  now  felt  to  be 
real  and  close  at  hand.  They  had  no  great  jurist  among 


JET.  24-25]   BEGINNING  OF  CIVIL  WAR    379 

them  like  Judge  Woodward  to  advocate  their  cause,  but  they 
were  not  without  resources  of  their  own,  of  equal  if  not 
superior  force,  in  making  their  last  defence  and  appeal. 
They  did  not  allude  to  the  possibility  of  any  sinister  motives 
as  having  any  connection  with  the  case ;  they  simply  fell  back 
upon  the  eternally  human  as  the  strongest  foundation ;  they 
pointed  out  in  simple,  but  most  pathetic  ways  the  divine 
hand,  the  voice  of  the  Spirit  in  all  these  human  affairs. 

No  more  moving  appeal  than  they  offered  could  be  con- 
ceived. They  knew  their  man;  they  had  not  sat  in  vain 
under  his  teaching.  They  recalled  to  his  mind  their  situation 
as  a  parish  when  two  years  and  a  half  ago  they  had  called 
him  to  be  their  minister.  They  were  then  in  a  depressed 
condition ;  half  of  the  pews  in  the  church  were  unoccupied ; 
their  number  of  communicants  sadly  reduced ;  their  revenue 
far  below  their  current  expenses.  Under  these  circum- 
stances, the  calling  of  a  rector  was  to  them  a  matter  of  vital 
importance,  for  a  mistake  meant  failure  and  ruin.  Then  as 
a  church  they  had  prayed  for  the  divine  guidance.  Was  it 
not  in  answer  to  this  prayer  that  one  of  his  fellow  students 
at  Alexandria,  who  happened  to  be  in  Philadelphia,  had  men- 
tioned the  name  of  Phillips  Brooks  to  one  of  their  vestry,  a 
seemingly  chance  occurrence,  but  mentioned  in  such  a  way 
that  it  could  not  be  forgotten  ?  He  mentioned  it  to  others  of 
the  vestry,  and  so  strong  was  the  impression  borne  in  upon 
their  minds  that  a  committee  was  appointed  to  go  and  see 
him.  They  recalled  to  his  mind  how  this  committee  had 
gone  to  visit  the  little  mission  house  to  hear  him  preach,  or 
rather  talk,  to  the  poor  people  to  whom  he  ministered,  the 
impression  made  on  them,  and  the  conversation  that  followed 
in  the  garden  near  the  humble  place  where  they  had  found 
him ;  the  return  of  the  committee  and  their  report  to  the  con- 
gregation, and  then  the  immediate  and  unanimous  call.  The 
first  sermon  and  the  impression  it  made  upon  the  people  to 
whom  he  was  yet  an  entire  stranger,  —  this  they  also  recalled 
to  him;  then  the  almost  immediate  increase  in  the  congrega- 
tion, continuing  to  increase  during  all  the  time  of  his  minis- 
try; the  earnest  and  crowded  audiences  listening  to  the 


38o  PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [i  860-61 

truth  as  it  fell  from  bis  lips.  They  spoke  of  the  large  num- 
ber added  to  the  communicants  of  the  church;  they  reminded 
him  of  his  Sunday-school,  with  its  hundreds  of  eager  chil- 
dren's faces.  In  all  this,  so  the  argument  ran,  was  there  to 
be  seen  the  evidence  of  some  divine  supernatural  call.  And 
here  they  rested  their  case. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity 
was  not  without  a  similar  conviction,  and  equally  strong,  that 
a  divine  and  supernatural  hand  was  now  directing  him  to 
arise  and  depart  from  the  smaller,  more  limited  field,  in 
which  he  could  not  be  suffered  any  longer  to  remain.  If  he 
ministered  effectively  to  a  congregation  of  five  hundred,  was 
it  not  a  divine  opening  when  he  was  invited  to  minister,  and 
surely  with  equal  efficiency,  to  a  congregation  of  more  than 
twice  that  number?  A  letter  came  to  him  from  a  gentleman, 
a  member  of  the  vestry  of  the  larger  church,  which  tells  the 
same  simple  story,  making  the  same  human,  pathetic  appeal, 
as  had  the  members  of  his  own  congregation.  He  had  heard 
him  when  he  first  preached  at  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity 
soon  after  his  ordination,  and  had  then  been  captured,  mind 
and  heart,  by  the  young  stranger,  and  his  soul  had  gone  out 
to  him  as  to  a  son.  He  wrote  that  the  opinion,  under  the 
influence  of  that  first  sermon,  expressed  at  the  moment  by 
those  with  whom  he  talked  was  that  Phillips  Brooks  must  be 
the  successor  of  Dr.  Vinton.  He  urged  upon  him  the  un- 
usually large  number  of  young  people  who  made  up  their 
congregation,  who  listened  to  him  as  they  would  to  no  other. 
Here  he  himself  was  virtually  interested,  for  he  was  the 
father  of  young  children  growing  up  in  their  beauty  and 
innocence,  for  whom  his  one  desire  was  that  they  should  be 
brought  to  their  Saviour.  And  of  such  families  there  were 
hundreds  looking  to  him  in  the  waiting  church. 

When  the  call  to  Holy  Trinity  was  repeated,  it  came  to 
Phillips  Brooks  with  a  renewed  force.  It  had  become  evi- 
dent that  he  was  not  to  be  allowed  to  remain  in  peace  where 
he  was.  He  had  said  but  little  in  his  letters  of  the  motives 
for  his  final  decision.  But  this  was  one  of  them,  the  desire  to 
feel  that  he  was  permanently  fixed  where  he  could  do  his  work 


JET.  24-25]   BEGINNING  OF  CIVIL  WAR    381 

to  advantage.  That  part  of  the  city  where  he  then  ministered 
was  changing,  and  the  trend  of  the  population  was  away  from 
his  neighborhood.  To  follow  the  population  and  build  else- 
where was  only  to  divide  his  church,  for  it  was  needed  where 
it  was,  to  minister  to  those  who  would  remain.  But  he  was 
distressed  at  the  thought  of  leaving  his  parish;  he  was  dis- 
tracted in  mind  and  sore  at  heart  when  he  betook  himself  to 
Dr.  Vinton  for  advice.  That  visit  determined  the  question. 
When  he  returned  from  New  York,  he  sent  in  his  resigna- 
tion of  the  rectorship  of  the  Church  of  the  Advent.  When 
Dr.  Vinton  heard  of  the  decision  he  wrote :  — 

NEW  YORK,  November  20,  1861, 
ST.  MARK'S  RECTORY. 

MY  DEAR  BROOKS,  —  Your  letter  has  set  me  rejoicing.  The 
Lord  bless  your  decision  is  and  shall  be  my  prayer. 

Nothing  could  give  me  more  pleasure  than  to  be  at  my  old 
place  Sunday,  but  our  communion  keeps  me  at  home.  I  have 
written  to  Mr.  Coffin  proposing  the  Sunday  following,  the  third 
anniversary  of  my  first  sermon  in  H.  T.  [Holy  Trinity].  If  that 
plan  is  agreeable  to  you,  I  shall  come. 

I  suppose  you  mean  to  go  to  Boston  in  December.  Remember 
my  house  is  your  home  always  in  your  passing  and  repassing,  and 
you  contract  no  obligation,  but  confer  one  thereby.  When  if  ever 
it  should  be  inconvenient  to  us  I  will  tell  you. 

And  now  may  the  Lord  bless  and  keep  you,  and  make  His  face 
to  shine  upon  you,  and  be  gracious  to  you. 

Yours  affectionately,  ALEX.  H.  VINTON. 

But  the  chronicler  for  the  "Daily  Press,"  apparently  the 
same  who  had  kept  track  of  Mr.  Brooks  from  the  time  when 
he  went  to  Philadelphia,  was  disappointed  at  this  decision, 
and  gave  utterance  to  his  feelings :  — 

The  Philistines  have  triumphed !  Holy  Trinity  rejoiceth !  Ad- 
vent mourns  and  refuses  to  be  comforted.  Last  week  we  men- 
tioned the  fact  that  overtures  were  being  made  by  the  vestry 
of  Holy  Trinity  to  rob  the  Church  of  the  Advent  on  old  York 
road  of  its  pastor.  .  .  .  Mr.  Brooks,  acting  as  a  man  should  do, 
declined  the  sordid  bid.  They  called  again,  and  still  he  replied 
nay.  They  then  proposed  to  relieve  Advent  of  an  incumbrance  of 
several  thousand  dollars,  provided  Mr.  Brooks  accepted.  This 
we  regret  to  learn  that  gentleman  has  done,  so  that  the  poor  of 


382  PHILLIPS  BROOKS         [1860-61 

Advent  are  left  to  wander  without  a  shepherd,  that  the  aristo- 
cratic attendants  upon  Holy  Trinity  may  be  accommodated.  .  .  . 
If  he  can  reconcile  the  change  with  his  own  conscience  and  God, 
we  have  nothing  to  say.  But  the  finger  of  suspicion  will  long 
point  at  him  as  one  guided  in  his  holy  calling  by  temporal  in- 
terests. This  and  more  he  will  have  to  encounter.  The  cold- 
blooded aristocrats  of  Holy  Trinity  will  treat  him  with  frigid 
dignity,  nothing  more.  Advent  and  her  people  took  him  to  their 
bosoms,  and  warmed  his  every  labor  by  cheering  smiles  of  approval. 

During  this  trying  time  when  he  was  still  at  the  Church 
of  the  Advent,  before  his  resignation  should  take  effect, 
came  Thanksgiving  Day  with  its  holy  memories.  He  could 
not  join  his  family  at  the  sacred  feast,  but  at  least  he  could 
keep  festival  by  bringing  to  the  altar  the  best  offering  of  his 
genius.  The  Puritan  feeling  in  which  the  day  had  found 
its  origin  stirred  within  him.  One  essential  quality  in  the 
life  of  man  was  gratitude.  Unless  a  man  could  give  thanks 
for  the  mercies  of  creation,  as  well  as  of  redemption,  he 
missed  the  meaning  and  the  value  of  life.  But  how  to  inter- 
pret the  dark  hour  when  a  great  nation  was  involved  in  all 
the  horrors  of  a  fratricidal  war,  so  that  gratitude  to  God 
might  be  still  recognized  as  the  undercurrent  of  its  being 
—  that  was  the  problem  he  had  to  face.  He  took  for  his 
text  the  verse  of  a  familiar  Psalm:  "I  will  sing  of  mercy 
and  of  judgment "  (ci.  1).  The  sermon  was  reported  in  the 
daily  newspapers  with  the  brief  preface:  "The  neat  little 
Church  of  the  Advent,  York  Avenue  above  Buttonwood,  was 
filled  to  the  utmost  capacity  yesterday  morning."  The  ser- 
mon has  a  historical  interest  as  a  picture  of  the  hour :  — 

I  suppose  there  is  not  one  here  who  has  not  thought  more  than 
once  this  morning  what  a  peculiar  tone  and  spirit  there  is  in  this 
Thanksgiving  Day.  Nine  weeks  ago  to-day  we  met  here  under 
the  proclamation  of  the  President  to  hold  our  Fast  Day  services. 
We  came  then  with  a  sense  of  disaster  and  distress.  We  came 
sadly  and  penitently  to  confess  our  sins,  and  to  beseech  God  to 
remove  His  judgments  from  us.  The  troubles  that  brought  us 
together  then  have  not  ceased ;  the  fears  that  we  felt  then  are  still 
upon  us,  and  the  same  perplexities  which  surrounded  us  then  bring 
us  together  again  to-day  to  thank  God  for  His  mercies. 

It  cannot  be  under  such  circumstances  that  our  fast  should  be 


MT.  24-25]    BEGINNING  OF  CIVIL  WAR   383 

entirely  forgotten.  The  shadow  of  that  day  will  give  color  to 
this  God's  two  hands  —  His  hand  of  blessing  and  His  hand  of 
caution  —  are  laid  on  us  together,  and  if  we  sing  at  all  to-day  it 
must  he  a  double  strain,  like  that  which  David  announces  in  our 
text,  "I  will  sing  of  mercy  and  of  judgment." 

Monday  morning,  November  25,  1861. 

DEAR  WILLIAM, —  I  thank  you  most  sincerely  for  your  kind 
note  of  sympathy  and  congratulation.  Yes,  my  race  at  the  Ad- 
vent is  up  next  Sunday,  and  you  can't  imagine  how  blue  it  makes 
me.  But  I  am  rejoiced  the  thing  is  settled,  and  now  long  to 
have  the  parting  over.  They  are  beginning  to  feel  more  kindly 
about  it,  though  they  have  not  yet  accepted  my  resignation,  having 
twice  refused  to  do  so,  and  referred  the  matter  to  Bishop  Potter. 
But  as  he  fully  approves  of  my  course  and  has  told  them  so,  I 
think  they  will  make  no  more  difficulty,  but  accept  it  at  their  next 
meeting  to-morrow  night.  Meanwhile  you  can  imagine  it  is 
pretty  hard  work  to  keep  on  laboring  just  as  before.  I  preached 
yesterday  morning.  In  the  evening  I  had  Bishop  Hopkins  of 
Vermont. 

Have  now  only  two  sermons  more  to  write :  one  for  Thanks- 
giving and  my  farewell  for  next  Sunday  evening.  As  to  coming 
home  you  will  see  me  either  two  weeks  from  last  Saturday  or  two 
weeks  from  to-day.  I  am  coming  for  a  quiet  little  rest  and  for 
the  joy  of  seeing  you  all.  Mother  wants  me  to  preach  while  I 
am  in  Boston.  Tell  her  she  must  excuse  me  once  more.  I  want 
to  drop  off  work  altogether  for  these  few  weeks,  and  she  must  let 
me  sit  alongside  of  her  and  listen  to  Dr.  Nicholson. 

Excuse  this  long  letter  all  about  myself.  I  have  been  so  busy 
about  my  own  affairs  lately  that  I  have  grown  vilely  selfish. 
With  much  love, 

Your  affectionate  brother,  PHILL. 

On  December  6  he  started  for  Boston,  staying  for  a  few 
days  in  New  York  with  Dr.  Vinton.  It  was  his  wish,  his 
intention,  during  his  absence  from  Philadelphia  to  refrain 
from  preaching.  How  well  he  kept  his  purpose  is  shown  by 
the  records  of  his  Sundays  during  the  month  of  December. 
On  the  8th  he  preached  in  the  morning  at  Trinity  Church, 
New  York,  and  in  the  afternoon  at  St.  Mark's,  for  Dr.  Vin- 
ton. On  the  15th  he  was  with  the  Kev.  George  A.  Strong 
in  Medford,  preaching  for  him  at  Grace  Church,  morning  and 


384  PHILLIPS   BROOKS          [i  860-61 

evening.  On  the  22d,  and  this  was  a  memorable  day  for 
him  and  his  family,  he  preached  at  St.  Paul's  Church, 
Boston,  in  the  church  to  which  he  had  gone  as  a  child  since 
he  was  three  years  old,  with  his  family  in  the  old  pew,  No.  60, 
in  the  broad  central  aisle.  His  text  was  St.  John  iv.  28, 
29:  "Come,  see  a  man  who  told  me  all  things,  that  ever  I 
did;  is  not  this  the  Christ ?"  In  the  evening  he  preached 
at  St.  Mary's,  Dorchester,  where  his  uncle,  Mr.  John  Phil- 
lips, resided.  On  the  29th  he  preached  for  the  first  time  in 
Trinity  Church,  Boston,  while  Bishop  Eastburn  read  the 
service.  In  the  evening  of  the  same  day  he  preached  at  St. 
James',  Roxbury.  It  was  on  the  13th  of  December  that  he 
kept  his  twenty-sixth  birthday. 

One  would  like  to  know  what  judgment  his  parents  passed 
upon  his  preaching  as  he  stood  before  them,  or  what  Bishop 
Eastburn,  the  stalwart  Evangelical  divine,  thought  of  the 
unfamiliar  utterance  as  he  listened  from  the  chancel.  The 
father  was  a  severe  critic  of  preachers  as  they  passed  before 
him  in  review  at  St.  Paul's.  He  admired  the  slow  deliberate 
oratory  of  Dr.  Yinton,  whose  massive  voice  corresponded 
with  his  imposing  figure.  He  had  also  at  first  been  greatly 
impressed  with  the  delivery  of  Dr.  Nicholson,  whose  render- 
ing of  the  service,  solemn  and  emphatic  and  with  rotund 
sonorous  voice,  he  thought  the  finest  he  had  heard.  It  must 
have  seemed  to  him  as  though  his  son  defied  every  rule  of 
oratory,  or  was  incapable  of  classification  according  to  ac- 
cepted principles.  Indeed,  the  new  preacher  gave  his  audi- 
ence no  time  to  think  about  his  voice,  whether  it  were  fine  or 
not ;  there  was  a  rush  of  sentences,  one  tumbling  after  an- 
other, and  the  audience  had  all  it  could  do  to  follow,  for 
somehow  he  made  them  intensely  eager  to  follow  and  to  catch 
each  spoken  word,  as  though  something  essential  would  be 
lost  if  their  attention  should  be  diverted.  There  must  have 
been  surprise  and  even  amazement  at  something  so  novel,  so 
unlike  anything  they  had  ever  heard  before.  Not  only  was 
the  preacher's  delivery  unfamiliar,  but  his  thought  was  new; 
the  old  familiar  thought  of  the  gospel  was  in  his  sermons,  but 
it  came  with  a  new  meaning  and  force,  stripped  of  the  old 


MT.  26]     BEGINNING  OF  CIVIL  WAR        385 

conventionalities  of  expression.  It  was  the  case  of  a  prophet 
returning  to  his  own  country.  There  is  some  evidence  that 
he  failed  to  receive  at  once  the  recognition  and  the  honor 
which  had  been  accorded  him  in  his  adopted  city.  When  he 
first  preached  at  Dorchester,  one  who  heard  him  thought  the 
congregation  was  rather  amused  than  impressed  with  the 
rapid  manner,  the  stumbling  over  sentences,  the  occasional 
entanglement  of  words  from  which  he  extricated  himself  with 
difficulty.  There  is  a  tradition  also  that  his  uncle,  when  he 
first  heard  him,  did  not  feel  sure  that  he  would  succeed  as  a 
preacher,  but  thought  him  a  young  man  possessed  of  genius. 


CHAPTER  XH 

JANUARY  TO  AUGUST,    1862 

THE  FIRST  YEAR  AT  THE  CHURCH  OP  THE  HOLY  TRINITY 
IN  PHILADELPHIA.  DISTRACTIONS  OF  PARISH  WORK.  THE 
NEW  DIVINITY  SCHOOL.  VISIT  TO  NIAGARA 

THE  first  duty  incumbent  on  Mr.  Brooks  in  his  new  posi- 
tion was  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  his  parishioners,  and 
to  gather  up  the  lines  of  work  into  his  own  hands.  He 
studied  his  parish  as  if  it  were  a  business  enterprise,  reveal- 
ing himself  as  an  administrator  of  affairs,  with  a  minute 
knowledge  of  every  department  of  work,  its  actual  condition 
and  the  possibilities  of  its  extension.  It  was  his  aim  to  make 
the  parish  realize  some  high  ideal  of  usefulness  for  the  city 
and  for  the  church  at  large. 

During  the  first  six  months  of  his  rectorship  he  was  so 
absorbed  and  his  time  so  occupied  with  these  pressing  de- 
mands that  he  found  little  or  no  opportunity  for  study.  It 
must  also  be  said  that  during  these  months  the  record  he 
kept  of  his  work  shows  that  he  wrote  but  two  sermons.  He 
fell  back  upon  his  old  sermons,  but  he  also  was  driven  into 
extemporaneous  preaching  as  the  only  method  possible  under 
such  heavy  pressure  of  engagements.  If  his  soul  had  not 
been  so  full  of  enthusiasm,  or  his  preparation  for  the  minis- 
try had  not  been  so  thorough,  he  could  not  have  met  as  he 
did  the  increasing  demands  for  high  work  in  the  pulpit, 
which  his  very  success  was  creating.  For  the  moment  he 
utters  no  complaint,  though  he  must  have  inwardly  groaned 
as  he  contemplated  the  situation.  During  these  months,  his 
diary,  faithfully  kept,  shows  him  making  and  receiving  calls, 
morning  and  afternoon  and  evening  of  every  day  in  every 
week  and  month.  The  rich  and  generous  hospitality  of  his 


JET.  26]      HOLY  TRINITY  CHURCH  387 

congregation  seemed  to  know  no  bounds  and  recognize  no 
limits  of  time.  It  was  one  long  ovation  to  the  new  rector. 
No  occasion  was  complete  without  him,  and  the  social  festivi- 
ties for  which  his  presence  was  desired  were  innumerable. 

But  still  further,  his  position  as  the  rector  of  Holy  Trinity 
Church  and  the  successor  of  Dr.  Vinton  entailed  other  and 
wider  responsibilities.  Although  a  young  man  of  twenty- 
six,  he  was  taken  at  once  into  the  confidence  and  councils 
of  the  mature  and  venerable  men,  who  were  charged  with 
duties  to  the  church  at  large,  the  leaders  of  the  Evangelical 
party  who  at  that  special  moment  felt  that  a  crisis  was  im- 
pending in  the  church,  which  called  for  strenuous  efforts  if 
the  faith  was  to  be  maintained.  From  this  time  he  was  a 
constant  speaker  at  meetings  and  anniversaries  of  the  Ameri- 
can Church  Missionary  Society,  the  Evangelical  Knowledge 
Society,  and  to  these  was  now  to  be  added  a  third,  the  Evan- 
gelical Education  Society.  In  this  same  year,  1862,  which 
saw  the  birth  of  this  latter  society  for  promoting  the  educa- 
tion of  an  Evangelical  clergy,  the  first  steps  were  also  taken 
for  the  establishment  of  a  new  divinity  school  in  Philadel- 
phia. The  seminary  at  Alexandria  having  been  closed  in  con- 
sequence of  the  war,  and  its  professors  and  students  scattered, 
the  need  was  felt  for  a  central  school  of  theology,  which 
should  perpetuate  its  policy,  but  with  greater  advantages 
than  Alexandria  had  possessed.  Bishop  Alonzo  Potter  of 
Pennsylvania  has  the  honor  of  being  its  founder,  a  wise  and 
statesmanlike  ecclesiastic,  who  saw  the  need  and  sought  to 
divert  the  wealth  of  the  diocese  into  this  new  channel.  As 
the  rector  of  Holy  Trinity,  Mr.  Brooks  became  one  of  the 
overseers  of  the  new  divinity  school,  giving  freely  of  his 
time  to  the  many  preliminary  meetings  which  the  new  enter- 
prise demanded.  Dr.  Vinton  was  now  often  in  Philadelphia 
to  be  present  at  these  meetings.  Thither  also  came  Dr. 
John  S.  Stone,  the  former  rector  of  St.  Paul's,  Boston, 
under  whose  direction  the  Brooks  family  had  entered  the 
Episcopal  Church.1  With  these  men,  and  the  name  of  Dr. 
Heman  Dyer  must  be  mentioned  with  them,  though  many 
1  See  ante,  p.  42. 


388  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1862 

years  his  senior,  Phillips  Brooks  now  associated  on  equal 
terms.  They  welcomed  him  for  his  high  position,  and  the 
social  influence  he  represented,  but  chiefly  for  that  fascinat- 
ing eloquence  which  gave  a  new  and  potent  charm  to  the 
cause  so  dear  to  them.  His  accession  to  the  cause  was 
simply  invaluable.  These  older  men  must  even  then  have 
recognized  some  difference  in  the  presentation  of  the  truth  as 
they  held  it,  but  they  were  wise  and  large-hearted,  penetrat- 
ing beneath  the  surface  and  recognizing  that  at  heart,  and  in 
all  the  essential  quality  of  the  gospel,  he  was  at  one  with 
them.  From  this  conviction  they  never  wavered. 

Such  were  among  the  first  results  of  the  change  from  the 
Church  of  the  Advent  to  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity. 
Other  even  greater  results  were  to  follow,  —  his  prominence, 
not  only  in  the  church,  but  in  civic  affairs,  till  he  came  to  be 
one  of  the  foremost  citizens  of  Philadelphia.  It  was  charac- 
teristic of  him  then  in  his  youth,  as  throughout  his  life,  that 
he  met  those  new  and  larger  obligations  with  all  the  gravity 
of  age,  throwing  himself  into  every  speech  he  made  on  repre- 
sentative occasions,  so  that  the  occasion  should  not  fail  through 
any  fault  of  his.  He  took  his  part  in  the  deliberations  of  the 
hour,  never  failing  in  his  duty  to  be  present  at  any  appointed 
meeting.  He  was  now  eagerly  sought  after  for  such  special 
events  as  ordinations  and  consecrations  of  churches,  because 
thus  early  his  presence  and  the  word  as  he  spoke  it  were  felt 
to  be  necessary  in  order  to  the  fitness  of  these  solemnities. 
It  was  almost  too  much  for  any  man  to  be  called  on  to  endure 
with  safety.  But  the  admiration,  the  adulation  which  now 
went  forth  towards  him,  the  enthusiasm  his  presence  created, 
he  seemed  to  regard  as  a  shadow  from  which  he  would  fain 
escape.  If  he  was  in  this  world  of  great  social  and  eccle- 
siastical functions  he  was  not  of  it.  Those  who  knew  him 
well  can  bear  abundant  witness  to  another  peculiarity,  life- 
long and  most  impressive.  He  was  only  too  glad  to  leave 
the  scene  of  his  greatness,  to  get  once  more  with  a  few  well- 
chosen  friends,  as  though  the  honor  and  applause  which  came 
to  him  were  unimportant  compared  with  the  privileges  which 
friendship  brought,  and  he  were  tacitly  entreating  those  whom 


AT.  26]        HOLY  TRINITY  CHURCH          389 

he  claimed  as  friends  to  forgive  and  to  forget  these  acciden- 
tal distinctions  of  popularity  and  fame  as  having  no  intrinsic 
significance.  It  is  an  almost  uniform  record  how,  after  every 
public  function,  he  hastened  away  to  this  social  communion. 
Sometimes  it  left  the  impression  that  he  was  hardly  responsi- 
ble for  or  but  slightly  related  to  his  work  in  the  pulpit,  while 
that  which  constituted  the  value  of  life  was  to  be  found  in 
social  fellowship.  To  make  the  quick  transition  from  the 
spiritual  exaltation  of  the  pulpit  to  the  ordinary  converse  of 
life,  which  to  many  is  slow  and  difficult,  was  easy  for  him 
and  seemed  to  be  essential  to  his  happiness  and  peace  of  mind. 
There  is  a  contrast  here,  not  easy  to  harmonize,  that  while 
others  were  still  too  deeply  moved  with  what  he  had  been 
uttering  to  think  of  anything  else,  he  appeared  to  have  for- 
gotten it  or  to  regard  it  as  an  ordinary  circumstance  in  the 
routine  of  life.  To  those  who  knew  him  best,  the  impression 
was  not  misleading  or  injurious.  Beneath  the  contrast  lay 
the  principle  by  which  he  had  reconciled  the  antagonism  of  the 
ages,  the  antagonism  which  he  himself  had  felt  so  strongly  in 
his  early  years.  He  had  inherited  the  double  portion,  —  the 
love  of  the  human  equally  with  the  divine.  He  was  bearing 
testimony  to  the  truth  of  his  own  experience,  that  the  joy  of 
living,  the  pleasure  of  social  converse,  the  talk  which  turned 
upon  little  things,  the  wit  and  the  humor  natural  to  man,  were 
not  incompatible  with  religion ;  that  to  turn  from  one  to  the 
other,  or  always  to  be  ready  for  either,  was  only  to  recog- 
nize the  divine  purpose  in  God's  creation,  the  unity  of  man's 
existence  in  a  world  which  was  temporal  while  yet  conjoined 
with  the  eternal.  He  may  seem  to  have  carried  his  defiance 
of  conventional  religious  manners  to  an  extreme,  but,  if  so, 
he  may  have  felt  that  the  singular  power  which  he  exerted 
in  the  pulpit  was  a  source  of  danger  to  him,  unless  it  were 
counterbalanced  by  the  healthy  participation  in  the  joy  of 
common  life.  He  attached  a  mystic  importance  to  the  social 
fellowship,  regarding  it  as  the  reflection  of  some  aspect  of  the 
eternal  reality,  of  things  as  they  are,  in  themselves  and  in  God. 
The  social  side  of  his  life,  therefore,  in  Philadelphia,  must 
be  viewed  as  an  important  factor  in  his  history.  He  seemed 


390  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

to  be  making  up  for  lost  years  of  seclusion  in  college  and  in 
the  seminary.  He  went  to  social  receptions  whenever  he  was 
invited,  and  they  were  many.  Philadelphia  hospitality,  which 
needs  no  commendation  so  well  is  it  known,  was  offered  to  him 
without  stint  or  limit.  In  his  congregation  there  were  charm- 
ing  households  which  were  opened  to  him  as  homes.  Go 
where  he  might,  he  was  more  than  welcome.  Life  seemed  to 
be  a  perpetual  social  ovation.  The  impression  which  the 
records  of  these  days  present  is  that  of  perfect  unalloyed  hap- 
piness, almost  too  great  for  this  lower  world.  In  the  list  of 
these  social  engagements  some  stand  out  more  prominently 
than  others,  among  them  the  dinners  at  Mr.  Cooper's  every 
Tuesday  evening,  the  Wednesday  evenings  after  service  at  Dr. 
Weir  Mitchell's  or  elsewhere,  the  Sunday  midday  meals  with 
Mr.  Lemuel  Coffin,  who  was  now  to  Mr.  Brooks  what  Mr. 
Remsen  had  been  at  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  —  a  man  of 
great  goodness  and  simplicity,  upon  whose  unfailing  sympa- 
thy and  support  he  could  always  rely. 

The  following  letter  gives  his  first  impressions  as  he  enters 
upon  the  duties  of  his  new  position.  It  is  characteristic,  and 
touching  also,  that  he  calls  at  once  for  a  visit  from  his  father 
and  mother. 

Saturday,  January  11,  1862. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  It  will  be  a  chance  if  I  don't  ask  you  before 
I  finish  what  the  rent  is,  and  how  many  boarders  you  keep.  I 
have  spent  all  this  week  in  asking  this  question  of  all  sorts  of 
people  all  over  town  and  am  sick  now  of  the  very  sight  of  a 
boarding-house.  I  am  still  at  Mr.  Cooper's,  but  hope  to  hear  to- 
night that  I  can  have  some  rooms  at  which  I  have  been  looking, 
and  which  I  have  promised  to  take  if  they  are  vacated  within  a 
week.  I  am  impatient  to  get  settled,  for  until  I  do  I  cannot 
actively  begin  my  parish  work,  and  am  at  present  doing  little 
more  than  preaching  for  my  new  people.  I  like  them  more  and 
more  the  more  I  see  of  them.  They  are  kind,  cordial,  and  full 
of  will  to  work.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  disagreeable  fashion- 
able life  among  them,  but  many  of  them  are  earnest  and  devoted 
people.  My  first  Wednesday  evening  lecture  came  off  last 
Wednesday  night.  The  lecture  room  was  thronged,  but  both  then 
and  last  Sunday  there  were  many  strangers  on  whom  I  cannot 
permanently  count.  I  am  not  ambitious  of  a  crowd,  and  am  sat- 


JET.  26]      HOLY  TRINITY  CHURCH  391 

isfied  to  have  the  church  well  filled.  All  the  pews  but  five  or  six 
are  taken.  The  news  to-day  looks  something  more  like  work  — 
two  expeditions  off.  Oh,  for  a  blow  somewhere  to  make  this 
monster  stagger!  We  are  having  the  meanest  weather,  rain  or 
snow  alternately,  with  fogs  and  mist  and  damp.  Lay  to  this  and 
my  unsettled  state  the  wretchedness  of  this  letter. 

February  3,  1862. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  thank  you  for  the  letter  which  I  got  on 
Saturday.  I  am  getting  to  feel  at  home  in  my  new  quarters,  and 
not  to  be  quite  so  much  surprised  at  letters  directed  to  1533 
Locust  (Street).  The  rooms  are  all  that  I  desire  and  the  house 
apparently  a  pleasant  one. 

All  is  going  swimmingly  at  the  new  church.  Mr.  Coffin  (the 
"  Remsen  "  of  the  new  concern)  tells  me  he  rented  the  last  sitting 
on  Saturday,  and  the  church  is  all  taken  now  for  the  first  time. 
Yesterday  I  began  my  plan  of  having  evening  service  once  a 
month,  with  a  service  for  the  children  instead  of  the  regular  after- 
noon service.  It  went  first-rate ;  both  afternoon  and  evening  were 
overcrowded.  Our  Wednesday  evening  lectures  are  always  much 
more  than  full.  So  you  see  that  we  are  doing  well  and  have 
every  reason  to  hope  for  the  future.  Dr.  Vinton  was  here  last 
week  and  seemed  to  think  things  looked  prosperous.  .  .  . 

I  want  you  and  Mother  to  make  your  plans  to  come  on  here  in 
the  spring;  Mr.  Coffin  is  very  anxious  you  should  stay  with  him. 
I  don't  see  but  what  it  would  be  a  good  arrangement. 

As  to  George's  coming,  let  it  be  whenever  you  please,  only  let 
me  know  of  it  beforehand,  that  I  may  find  him  out  a  room.  .  .  . 
Write  soon  and  often. 

Yours  affectionately,  PHILLIPS. 

February  8,  1862. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  What  do  you  think  of  Fort  Henry  ? l 
Does  n't  it  seem  as  if  we  were  really  going  to  have  something  to 
crow  about  one  of  these  days?  Now  if  the  Elements  will  only  be 
done  fighting  against  us,  we  shan't  have  much  trouble  in  driving 
the  thing  through. 

Everything  with  us  is  going  as  quietly  as  if  there  were  no  war. 
I  am  getting  easy  in  my  new  seat,  and  have  about  all  the  reins 
picked  up  and  fairly  in  my  hands  for  the  long  drive.  Our 
church  is  very  full  and  all  rented.  They  are  beginning  to  whisper 

1  The  capture  of  Forts  Henry  and  Donelson  by  General  Grant,  which  gare 
the  Union  armies  possession  of  the  Tennessee  and  Cumberland  rivers,  the  high- 
way to  the  Southern  States  of  Alabama  and  Mississippi. 


392  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1862 

of  enlargement,  but  it  won't  be  done  BO  long  as  we  owe  $60,000. 
Last  Sunday  I  began  the  experiment  of  an  afternoon  children'* 
church,  postponing  my  regular  afternoon  service  till  the  evening. 
It  succeeded  perfectly;  both  services  were  overcrowded,  and  I  am 
going  to  keep  it  up  now  the  first  Sunday  of  every  month.  To- 
morrow I  am  going  back  to  Advent  for  the  first  time.  Dr.  Butler 
has  disappointed  them,  and  I  am  going  to  take  charge  of  their 
Sunday-School  Anniversary  in  the  afternoon  and  to  preach  for 
them  in  the  evening.  It  will  feel  queer;  some  of  them  didn't 
want  me  to  come,  but  I  think  probably  the  best  way  to  break  down 
that  feeling  is  just  by  going.  How  1  always  write  about  nothing 
but  myself.  You  must  excuse  it,  but  I  am  so  busy  I  don't  have 
time  to  pick  up  news  about  other  people. 

The  absorbing  duties  of  his  parish  did  not  prevent  him 
from  following  still  with  deep  sympathy  each  stage  of  his 
younger  brother's  career  at  Harvard.  Frederick  Brooks  was 
now  preparing  to  follow  in  Phillips's  footsteps  by  competing 
successfully  for  the  Bowdoin  prize.  The  relations  with  this 
younger  brother  show  what  he  might  have  been  as  a  teacher 
had  not  his  desire  to  follow  that  profession  been  rudely 
checked.  One  thing  is  clear,  that  the  religious  reserve 
which  once  made  it  impossible  for  him  to  speak  on  the  sub- 
ject of  personal  religion  was  now  broken  down.  This  pecul- 
iarity so  marked  among  the  New  England  people  —  the 
unwillingness  to  intrude  within  the  sacred  shrine  of  another's 
personality  —  had  its  roots  in  the  reverence  for  individual 
freedom,  nourished  as  it  had  been  by  generations  of  training 
in  the  Calvinistic  theology.  We  may  believe  that  it  was  no 
easy  thing  for  Phillips  Brooks  to  conquer  this  reserve,  and 
urge  upon  Frederick  the  choice  of  the  ministry  as  a  pro- 
fession. 

1633  LOCUST  STREET,  February  8,  1862. 

DEAR  FRED,  —  I  thank  you  for  your  note  of  Friday.  There 
was  n't  much  of  it,  but  it  was  first-rate  what  there  was.  I  must 
steal  a  few  moments  this  morning  to  answer  it.  Glad  to  hear  of 
you  all  at  home  so  very  busy.  I  rejoice  in  it.  It 's  good  for  all 
of  ns.  We  '11  rest  by  and  by. 

I  am  glad  you  are  going  in  for  the  prize.  What  is  your  sub- 
ject and  tell  me  something  of  your  treatment  of  it?  As  to  the 
length  that  always  used  to  be  specified  in  the  yearly  Catalogue  at 


JET.  26]      HOLY  TRINITY   CHURCH  393 

so  many  (twenty-four,  I  think)  pages  of  the  "North  American 
Review."  You  can  easily  make  a  calculation  by  copying  a  few 
lines  from  the  "  Review "  in  your  usual  hand,  how  much  that 
will  come  to  in  MSS.,  and  I  think  it  is  well  to  come  about  up  to 
the  mark. 

I  had  read  your  articles  in  the  last  "  Harvard  Magazine  "  be- 
fore your  note  came.  I  like  them  both.  If  I  made  any  sugges- 
tion it  would  be  this,  and  in  view  rather  of  college  writing  in 
general  than  of  any  fault  I  see  specially  in  yours.  Almost  all 
college  writing  is  unsystematic.  I  remember  the  horror  I  used 
to  have  of  anything  like  a  scheme  or  skeleton  before  I  began  an 
essay.  But  I  have  long  since  found  my  error.  Let  your  essay 
be  a  whole  something,  and  not  a  lot  of  disjecta  membra,  all  good, 
perhaps,  but  with  no  organic  unity.  I  am  convinced  that  the 
difference  between  good  and  bad  essays  lies  not  between  skeleton 
and  no  skeleton,  but  between  two  kinds  of  skeletons  and  two  ways 
of  putting  on  the  meat.  I  want  to  feel  the  bones  when  I  read  a 
man,  just  as  when  I  shake  hands  with  him.  As  to  style  and  all 
that,  what  a  capital  paper  that  is  of  Mr.  T.  W.  Higginson's, 
"To  a  Young  Contributor,"  in  the  last  "Atlantic  "!  That  seems 
to  say  all  that  can  be  said  on  that  point.  Write  me  all  about  the 
progress  of  your  work.  One  other  word,  Fred,  and  very  seri- 
ously. Have  you  ever  thought  about  your  profession?  It  is 
almost  time  to  choose.  The  ministry  of  Christ  needs  men  ter- 
ribly; so  much  to  do,  so  few  trained  and  cultivated  men  to  do  it. 
What  do  you  say?  Write  to  me  about  this  too,  and  be  sure  that 
all  you  say  shall  be  to  me  alone. 

Good-by.     God  bless  you.  PHILL. 

A  few  months  later  Frederick  Brooks  was  honored  by  an 
election  into  the  Hasty  Pudding  Club  at  Harvard,  and  writes 
to  Phillips  for  advice  in  regard  to  the  proper  thing  for  a  Pud- 
ding oration.  Upon  that  point  the  older  brother  could  speak 
with  the  force  of  experience,  and  con  amore :  — 

I  can  only  tell  you  what  was  the  thing  in  my  opinion  seven 
years  ago.  What  new  standards  a  later  generation  may  have  set 
up  I  can't  say.  Not  local,  I  should  say  first  of  all ;  that  is,  not 
local  in  its  subject  or  substance.  A  local  allusion  here  or  there 
of  course  is  a  matter  of  taste,  and  is  well  just  according  as  it  is 
well  done. 

Light  or  heavy?  I  should  say  rather  not  heavy  than  light,  if 
you  see  the  distinction;  there  is  one.  If  the  best  class  of  Can  tabs 


394  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

are  what  they  used  to  be,  they  have  a  secret  contempt  always  for 
a  mosaic  of  puns  and  prettinesses,  such  as  is  often  set  before  them 
for  an  oration.  Take  a  good  earnest  subject.  Treat  it  earnestly 
without  preaching  and  pleasantly  without  trifling. 

When  is  it  to  come  off?  Please  write  me  word  that  I  may 
make  my  plans  if  possible  to  be  there.  I  bid  you  welcome  into 
our  little  fraternity,  and  shall  be  glad  to  sit  with  you  at  our  musty 
board  and  glory  once  more  in  my  silver  spoon. 

Friday,  February  21,  1862. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  — ...  How  the  good  news  comes  in !  It 
takes  one's  breath  away  —  this  hearing  of  place  after  place  going 
the  way  of  all  rascality  before  the  Union  arms.  We  are  all 
jubilant  here,  and  are  going  to  have  a  great  time  to-morrow.  I 
am  likely  enough  to  have  the  mayor  for  a  vestryman,  and  so  am 
going  to  dine  with  the  celebrities  at  his  house. 

I  am  mourning  over  the  loss  of  George's  visit.  I  had  been 
depending  on  it.  I  do  wish  some  of  you  could  get  on  here  this 
winter.  I  want  to  show  you  my  parish.  It  is  the  liveliest  and 
noblest  church  I  ever  saw.  I  met  last  night  at  a  party  Lieu- 
tenant  Fairfax,  of  Mason  and  Slidell  notoriety.  He  is  a  capital 
fellow.  I  had  a  very  interesting  talk  with  him,  and  he  has  pro- 
mised to  come  and  see  me.  I  hope  to  know  him  well.  I  am 
visiting  my  new  parish  industriously ;  have  made  about  one  hun- 
dred calls  since  I  took  charge,  and  have  two  hundred  left.  I  am 
all  adrift  in  a  sea  of  new  faces.  Give  lots  of  love  to  all,  and 
let 's  hurrah  together  for  each  new  victory. 

Monday  evening,  March  3,  1862. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  How  long  it  is  since  I  have  written  to  you ! 
But  if  you  could  have  seen  my  life  this  last  two  months  I  am  sure 
you  would  forgive  me.  What  with  sermons,  and  lectures,  and 
meetings,  and  dinings-out,  and  making  five  or  six  hundred  new 
acquaintances,  the  time  has  gone  very  pleasantly,  but  very  hur- 
riedly. I  find  the  new  parish  all  that  it  was  promised.  There 
is  a  very  great  deal  of  wealth  and  luxury,  but  also  a  large  amount 
of  intelligence  and  refinement  as  well  as  of  earnestness  and  de- 
votion. The  church  is  all  taken  up,  and  we  are  slowly  providing 
for  our  debt  by  the  sale  of  pews.  Some  $3000  has  been  sold 
since  I  took  charge.  The  contributions  in  these  two  months  are 
something  over  $2000.  Then  we  are  doing  a  large  work  among 
the  poor,  over  two  hundred  of  them  being  in  our  classes  and 
societies.  Our  meetings  are  all  overcrowded,  especially  our 
Wednesday  evening  lectures,  for  which  our  lecture  room  is  much 


.  26]      HOLY  TRINITY  CHURCH  395 

too  small.  I  tell  you  this  to  let  you  see  that  in  spite  of  the 
"  Sunday  Dispatch  "  there  is  something  worth  while  going  on  in 
Holy  Trinity.  We  hope  to  do  more  when  we  get  thoroughly 
used  to  each  other. 

My  new  rooms  are  delightful  and  the  house  is  pleasant.  I  do 
most  sincerely  hope  that  you  will  be  able  to  run  on  in  the  spring 
and  give  your  boy  a  look.  I  had  an  old  St.  Paul's  face  in  my 
congregation  the  other  day,  Mr.  Amos  A.  Lawrence.  He  came 
to  see  me  after  the  service.  How  well  the  war  goes  on,  but  now 
the  elements  are  against  us  once  again,  and  I  am  afraid  the  great 
Virginia  "  Advance  "  will  suffer  from  this  frightful  weather. 

I  rejoice  in  George's  prospects,  though  I  am  much  disappointed 
not  to  get  his  visit.  I  hope  it  is  the  opening  of  great  things  for 
him. 

I  am  very  well,  never  better  in  my  life ;  a  little  blue  and  tired 
now  and  then,  but  on  the  whole  happy  and  prosperous. 

Tell  Mother  I  am  sorry  that  she  writes  so  little.  Love  to 
aunt  Susan  and  the  rest.  Affectionately, 

PHILLIPS. 

His  mother's  letters  were  not  so  frequent  as  when  he  was 
at  Alexandria.  She  was  at  this  time  concentrating  her  inter- 
est and  anxiety  upon  George,  the  third  son,  who  had  not 
yet  been  confirmed.  For  years  she  had  been  praying  and 
working  for  this  great  consummation,  and  George,  who  had 
reached  the  age  of  twenty -three,  gave  no  sign  of  an  awakening 
to  the  things  of  religion.  But  his  mother  was  also  deeply 
stirred,  as  was  every  member  of  the  family,  by  the  reports 
which  were  brought  to  Boston  through  friends  who  had  been 
visiting  Philadelphia,  and  who  went  with  great  expectations 
to  hear  the  young  preacher.  The  universal  praise  and 
homage  he  seemed  to  be  receiving  gave  his  father  and  mo- 
ther a  sense  of  disquietude  lest  some  injury  should  be  done  to 
his  character.  His  mother  now  wrote :  "  I  am  glad  you  are 
prospering  so  well  in  your  church.  I  hope  you  will  always 
be  faithful  and  humble.  Sometimes,  I  fear,  Philly,  that  the 
praises  of  your  friends  will  make  you  proud,  for  you  are 
human;  but  do  not  let  it.  Remember  how  humble  your 
Master  was."  His  father  was  also  moved  to  warn  him 
against  the  evils  of  flattery.  "You  are  in  a  dangerous  situa- 
tion for  a  young  man,  and  I  cannot  help  warning  you  of  it. 


396  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

Keep  your  simplicity  and  your  earnestness,  above  all  your 
devotion  to  your  Master's  cause,  and  don't  let  these  flattering 
demonstrations  you  see  about  you  withdraw  you  from  them. 
Keep  on  in  the  even  tenor  of  your  ways,  so  that  when  there 
is  a  lull  in  the  excitement  it  will  find  you  the  same."  To 
these  appeals  he  responds :  — 

Wednesday,  March  12,  1832. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  was  very  glad  to  get  your  letter  and  have 
ju.-t  time  to  answer  it  before  I  go  to  lecture.  I  thank  yon  for 
your  congratulations  and  also  for  your  cautions.  I  hope  my  let- 
ters have  not  looked  as  if  I  were  getting  conceited.  You  must 
let  me  know  just  as  soon  as  they  do.  Seriously,  though,  there  is 
so  much  to  humble  one  every  day  in  the  sense  of  the  imperfections 
with  which  the  work  is  done,  that  it  seems  to  me  there  is  but 
little  chance  for  a  man  to  get  puffed  up  with  the  mere  outward 
manifestations  of  success.  I  am  abundantly  and  devoutly  thank- 
ful for  all  the  fruits  I  see,  but  they  are  so  out  of  proportion  to  the 
needs  and  capacities  of  the  field  that  there  is  enough  to  humiliate 
as  well  as  to  elate. 

Thursday  morning,  13th. 

I  did  n't  get  through  my  letter  after  all,  but  was  interrupted 
and  occupied  all  the  rest  of  the  evening  both  before  and  after 
lecture.  How  the  news  comes  in  this  morning  from  the  war !  It 
seems  rather  hard  to  understand  as  yet.  Either  there  is  a  gen- 
eral cave  of  the  great  rebellion,  or  else  they  are  laying  deeper 
plots  than  ever  before.  We  shall  see  in  a  few  days  now.  What 
a  narrow  escape  we  had  in  the  Merrimac  affair.  .  .  . 

Yours  affectionately,          PHILLIPS. 

He  was  now  launched  on  the  stream  of  a  great  and  grow- 
ing popularity,  which  was  to  gain  new  momentum  with  each 
increasing  year.  His  mother  discerned  the  coming  great- 
ness. She  writes  to  him:  "What  a  delightful  work  you 
are  engaged  in,  and  you  seem  so  happy  in  it !  No  wonder. 
How  different  it  seems  from  my  life's  work,  so  humble  and 
so  laborious.  But  far  be  it  from  me  to  complain,  while  God 
is  honoring  me  in  letting  my  children  preach  his  glorious 
gospel.  I  wish  He  would  call  every  one  of  them  for  his  ser- 
vants." But  she  was  not  unconscious  that  she  had  some  share 
in  the  result,  that  the  contribution  she  had  made  to  his  moral 


MT.  26]      HOLY  TRINITY  CHURCH  397 

and  religious  training  was  vital  and  indispensable.  She 
encloses  a  short  extract  from  a  newspaper,  which  may  have 
more  than  one  application:  a  prospective  look  for  him,  as 
well  as  retrospective  in  her  own  case :  — 

It  is  often  a  matter  of  surprise  that  distinguished  men  have 
such  inferior  children  and  that  a  great  name  is  seldom  perpetu- 
ated. The  secret  of  this  is  often  evident :  the  mothers  have  been 
inferior,  — mere  ciphers  in  the  scale  of  existence.  All  the  splen- 
did advantages  procured  by  wealth  and  the  father's  position  can- 
not supply  this  one  deficiency  in  the  mother,  who  gives  character 
to  the  child. 

A  communication  written  for  the  "Christian  Times,"  a 
church  paper  published  in  New  York,  under  the  date  May  18, 
1862,  gives  a  picture  of  one  of  these  impressive  services  in 
Holy  Trinity  Church.  It  is  entitled 

A  SUNDAY  IN  PHILADELPHIA. 

In  comparison  with  the  endless  whirl  and  confusion  of  New 
York,  the  quiet  of  the  Sabbath  seems  ever  to  reign  over  Phila- 
delphia. The  Quaker  stillness  has  not  gone  any  more  than  the 
Quaker  architecture,  so  prim  and  so  pleasing  in  its  uniform  white- 
ness of  steps  and  shutters,  and  the  plainness  of  house  fronts;  or 
the  Quaker  marvels  of  cleanliness,  rendering  even  the  pavements, 
like  the  well-scoured  floors  of  Yankee  homesteads,  fit  to  serve  as 
tables  for  meals.  And  when  the  Lord's  Day  comes,  as  was  the 
case  with  the  pleasant  one  we  lately  spent  here,  how  sweet  the 
bridal  of  the  earth  and  sky  in  their  Sabbath  rest.  It  was  a  per- 
fect day  of  spring,  fitted  for  high  and  holy  thoughts  and  deeds ; 
and  at  its  close,  as  we  looked  down  upon  the  sight  of  seventy-nine 
persons  —  young,  middle-aged,  and  old  —  renewing  in  the  pre- 
sence of  a  vast  congregation  their  vows  of  baptism  in  solemn  con- 
firmation, we  felt  that  it  was  indeed  a  high  privilege  to  spend 
such  a  Sunday  where  such  sights  were  to  be  seen.  The  place  was 
the  stately  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity ;  and  the  earnest  and  elo- 
quent rector  whose  first  fruits  were  thus  presented  to  the  Lord  of 
the  harvest  was  the  Rev.  Phillips  Brooks.  Surely  his  was  an 
enviable  position  that  day,  when  at  eventide  there  came  forth 
such  numbers  as  these  to  attest  his  devotedness  and  success. 
Particularly  gratifying  was  the  gathering  of  the  poor  as  well  as 
of  the  rich  in  that  throng  about  the  chancel.  ...  As  the  newly 
confirmed  turned  slowly  away  from  the  chancel,  the  choir,  the 


398  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

best  we  ever  heard  in  Philadelphia,  gave  expression  to  the  deep 
feeling  of  many  hearts  as  they  rendered  most  exquisitely  the 
hymn, 

Rook  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 

Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee. 

Another  account  is  furnished  by  a  visitor  from  New  York, 
who  also  attempts  a  pen  portrait  of  Mr.  Brooks.  Of  such 
portraits  there  were  many,  differing  from  each  other,  as  men 
differ  in  their  vision  and  judgment,  but  alike  significant  of 
the  conviction  that  the  thrilling  presentation  of  the  message 
was  somehow  connected  with  the  personality  of  the  preacher. 

Our  Sunday  [writes  this  correspondent  of  the  "Christian 
Times  "  J  was  spent  both  morning  and  afternoon  in  attendance 
upon  the  ministry  of  the  clerical  prodigy  of  our  church,  the  Rev. 
Phillips  Brooks.  And  in  truth  it  is  no  common  sight,  even  in 
this  precocious  age,  to  see  so  young  a  man  ministering  with  such 
ability  and  acceptableness  to  a  congregation  that  will  rank  among 
the  most  numerous  and  influential  in  the  land.  ...  In  appear- 
ance he  is  tall  and  commanding,  but  not  over-graceful ;  his  style 
of  elocution  is  rapid  even  to  discomfort,  many  of  his  glowing 
periods  being  lost  through  the  quickness  of  their  utterance.  His 
composition  is  marked  by  striking  originality  and  comprehensive- 
ness. His  analysis  is  clear  and  simple;  his  diction  dainty,  yet 
fluent.  A  rich  vein  of  gospel  truth  runs  through  his  discourses, 
and  an  earnest  desire  to  win  souls  was  apparent  in  those  we  heard. 
The  morning  text  was  Rev.  xxii.  11:  "He  that  is  unjust,  let  him 
be  unjust  still."  .  .  .  The  afternoon  discourse  was  a  complete 
and  most  satisfactory  analysis  of  the  character  of  St.  Peter. 
Whether  due  to  Mr.  Brooks's  personality  or  the  character  of  the 
people,  we  noticed  that  the  church  was  as  well  filled  in  the  after- 
noon as  in  the  morning,  — a  statement  that  could  hardly  be  pre- 
dicated of  any  of  our  own  churches. 

There  is  still  another  newspaper  version  of  these  first 
months  in  the  new  rectorship.  It  is  evidently  from  the  same 
hand  that  had  welcomed  him  to  the  Advent,  that  dismissed 
him  from  there  with  suspicion  of  his  motives,  and  now  uses 
its  opportunity  to  misrepresent  the  situation.  The  story  of 
the  slippers  invented  by  this  writer,  which  gained  a  wide  cur- 
rency and  was  thought  amusing,  had  no  foundation  in  fact. 
The  report  from  the  same  source  of  his  engagement  in  mar- 


MT.  26]      HOLY  TRINITY  CHURCH  399 

riage  was  untrue,  but  it  travelled  far  and  wide,  causing  em- 
barrassment to  himself  and  to  his  friends  at  home.  This  was 
the  paragraph  as  it  appeared  in  a  Philadelphia  paper :  — 

Parson  Brooks  of  Holy  Trinity  Church  is  a  lucky  fellow.  It 
was  a  good  move  in  the  parson  to  vacate  the  Advent  and  to  take 
up  his  abode  with  the  aristocratic  denizens  of  the  West  End. 
The  ladies  of  Holy  Trinity  adore  Brooks.  They  declare  he  is  a 
love  of  a  man,  and  picture  his  good  qualities  with  a  good  deal  of 
vim.  Notwithstanding  Brooks  is  pledged  in  marriage  to  a  lady 
in  New  York,  our  fair  damsels  are  in  no  way  dismayed.  How 
Brother  Brooks  resists  the  attentions  so  liberally  bestowed  upon 
him  by  our  beautiful  daughters  we  cannot  comprehend.  But 
report  says  he  is  gradually  caving  in.  Brother  Brooks  has  been 
the  fortunate  recipient  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  pairs  of  slippers, 
numberless  collars,  hemstitched  handkerchiefs,  neckties,  and  those 
articles  generally  found  in  a  gentleman's  furnishing  store. 

Thus  early  had  Mr.  Brooks  become  subject  to  that  petty 
personal  criticism,  which  he  afterwards  spoke  of  as  one  of  the 
most  insidious  of  the  attacks  made  upon  a  clergyman's  inde- 
pendence. The  report  that  he  was  engaged  to  be  married 
was  so  widespread  and  persistent  that  at  last  his  father  wrote 
to  know  the  truth  regarding  it.  In  his  business  way  he  gave 
him  advice,  —  not  to  be  in  a  hurry,  to  consider  and  weigh  the 
matter  carefully,  to  take  time,  nothing  would  be  lost  by 
waiting,  keep  his  freedom  and  independence  a  while  longer ; 
he  would  be  better  pleased  if  it  were  postponed  for  the  pre- 
sent. As  Mr.  Brooks  felt  no  call  to  the  single  life,  he  may 
have  been  contemplating  the  possibility  of  marriage,  but 
there  was  no  truth  whatever  in  the  reports  of  his  engagement. 
He  promised  to  let  his  family  know  whenever  so  great  an 
event  in  his  experience  was  imminent. 

In  the  spring  of  this  year,  1862,  his  father  made  a  visit  to 
him  to  see  with  his  own  eyes  the  situation.  He  found  his 
son  complaining  that  under  such  heavy  pressure  of  duties  and 
responsibilities,  social  and  ecclesiastical,  no  time  was  afforded 
for  study.  The  life  he  was  leading  was  unnatural,  and  could 
not  go  on  at  such  a  pace  without  disaster.  An  arrangement 
was  made  by  which  he  secured  a  room  at  the  church,  where 


400  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

he  could  retreat  and  be  with  himself.  It  was  something 
gained,  but  his  feeling  of  readiness  to  be  at  the  beck  and  call 
of  every  one  who  wanted  or  needed  him  was  the  great 
obstacle  to  be  overcome.  His  strongest  desire  was  to  be  a 
student ;  he  was  distressed  at  the  way  things  were  going,  but 
there  was  a  conflict  within  and  without.  For  the  time  being 
the  practical  administration  of  his  large  parish  claimed  his 
attention  and  his  strength. 

Saturday,  March  22, 1862. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  I  leave  off  a  few  minutes  in  the  middle  of 
a  sermon  that  I  may  not  fail  of  my  duty  to  you  again.  .  .  . 
Things  slip  along  so  quietly  here  that  there  is  little  or  no  news 
to  tell.  The  church  is  going  finely,  quite  as  promising  as  ever. 
We  are  selling  our  pews  rapidly  now  that  all  are  rented,  and 
there  is  no  chance  for  newcomers  except  to  buy.  Our  Lent  ser- 
vices are  well  attended.  I  have  removed  our  Wednesday  evening 
lectures  from  the  lecture  room  to  the  church,  and  last  Wednesday 
evening  we  had  the  church  full.  I  hope  there  is  good  doing. 

I  am  at  work  now  on  a  sermon  for  to-morrow  night  before  the 
anniversary  of  the  Children's  Home,  which  is  to  be  held  in  our 
church  (text  Matt.  xxv.  40).  I  am  ashamed  to  say  it  is  the  first 
sermon  since  my  Introductory  which  I  have  written  since  I  came 
to  Holy  Trinity. 

Wendell  Phillips  has  been  lecturing  here  this  week.  I  could  n't 
hear  him.  He  has  made  quite  a  sensation.  What  do  you  think 
of  the  war  now?  It  seems  to  be  "Marching  On."  I  wish  they 
would  let  McClellan  alone,  to  give  him  a  chance.  He  knows 
what  he  is  about. 

I  am  beginning  to  look  forward  to  next  summer  vacation.  I 
hope  to  have  a  good  long  one,  as  they  are  talking  of  going  to 
work  to  partially  finish  the  church.  I  am  going  to  give  most  of 
it  to  the  White  Mountains.  Are  you  ready? 

Affectionately,          PHILL. 

VKSTBT  ROOM,  CHURCH  OF  HOLT  TBIKITT, 
PHILADELPHIA,  Saturday,  April  5,  1862. 

DEAB  WILLIAM,  — I  have  been  trying  to  write  a  sermon  this 
morning,  but  can't  do  it.  It  is  so  doleful  and  gloomy  outside 
that  I  can't  get  up  any  kind  of  zest  within,  and  they  must  put  up 
with  an  old  sermon  for  to-morrow  night.  We  were  in  May  yes- 
terday, and  are  back  in  March  to-day.  A  dull  cold  rain  with 
nothing  to  cheer  it  up.  Not  even  good  news  from  the  war.  When 
are  they  coming?  I  have  faith,  plenty  of  it,  in  McClellan,  but  I 


JET.  26]      HOLY  TRINITY  CHURCH  401 

do  wish  he  'd  do  something ;  still  we  shall  see  what  we  shall  see 
to-day  or  to-morrow,  I  trust. 

I  hope  to  go  off  for  a  week  after  Lent  is  over.  I  mean  to  run 
down  to  Washington  to  see  how  things  look  there,  that  is,  unless 
our  army  is  driven  hack  before  that  time,  and  Jeff  is  throned  in 
the  capital.  In  that  case  look  for  me  in  Boston  instead.  The 
church  still  goes  on  busily  and  pleasantly.  There  is  work  enough 
to  do,  —  more  than  I  anticipated,  —  but  it  is  pleasant  work,  and 
perhaps  when  I  have  been  longer  at  it  and  got  it  a  little  more 
systematic  there  won't  be  so  much.  Our  Confirmation  is  fixed  for 
the  18th  of  May,  and  I  am  just  beginning  to  get  ready  for  that. 

When  his  mother  heard  of  his  plan  to  go  to  Washington, 
she  protested  with  all  a  woman's  heart.  She  was  nervous 
about  the  dangers  he  would  encounter ;  she  had  heard  alarm- 
ing rumors  of  diseases  contracted  by  those  who  had  made 

these  flying  visits. 

April  29, 1862. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  have  been  to  Washington  and  got  back 
safe.  No  cholera,  no  typhus,  no  anything.  I  had  a  very  in- 
teresting time,  saw  all  there  was  to  be  seen,  and  although  there 
is  no  army  in  that  region  now,  yet  the  forts  and  camps  and  the 
general  look  of  the  country  on  the  other  side  of  the  Potomac  are 
very  interesting.  Our  old  seminary  is  a  hospital  now,  and  the 
place  is  terribly  altered.  The  woods  are  all  cut  down,  fences 
gone,  and  the  roads  completely  obliterated.  The  whole  country 
for  miles  around  is  trodden  down  with  a  perfect  desolation. 
Everybody  in  Washington  seems  sure  of  ultimate  success,  and  the 
news  of  this  morning  is  certainly  a  great  step  forward.  .  .  . 

Affectionately,  PHILLIPS. 

Saturday,  May  3, 1862. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  Great  news  this  week.  New  Orleans  and 
Fort  Macon  taken.  McClellan  pressing  on  to  Yorktown,  and 
Father  coming  on  to  Philadelphia.  Next  week,  what  with  his  visit 
and  the  occupation  of  Richmond  by  our  troops,  promises  to  be 
quite  an  eventful  time.  I  am  rejoiced  that  father  is  coming  just 
now.  The  city  is  looking  its  very  best,  and  this  spring  air  is 
glorious.  I  want  him  to  see  our  church  before  it  begins  to  break 
up  for  the  summer.  So  start  him  off  if  he  is  n't  off  already.  .  .  . 

Saturday  morning,  May  17,  1862. 

MY  DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  I  got  your  congratulations  on  Norfolk, 
written  on  the  outside  of  your  last  letter.  Perhaps  before  this  is 


402  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

•ent  I  may  have  to  write  "Richmond  "  on  the  envelope.  It  n't 
it  great  the  way  things  are  going  and  the  way  the  war  will  be 
over  by  Independence  Day?  What  do  you  think  of  Banter's 
proclamation  ? 

I  have  been  very  busy  lately,  looking  forward  to  Confirmation. 
It  comes  to-morrow  afternoon.  I  have  eighty  names  on  the  list. 
After  this  week  I  hope  to  have  rather  more  leisure. 

We  are  in  the  midst  of  most  magnificent  spring  weather. 
Warm  and  bright  and  beautiful. 

May  31, 1802. 

DEAB  WILLIAM,  —  I  have  just  seen  Dr.  Vinton  off  for  New 
York.  He  has  been  spending  several  days  here,  and  I  have  been 
with  him  a  good  deal.  I  shall  quite  miss  him.  This  has  been  our 
Convention  week  —  the  city  flooded  with  white  cravats  and  the 
church  in  a  tumult  with  great  long-winded  debates  that  never 
seemed  to  come  to  anything.  Still  it  went  off  very  well.  I  am 
glad  that  Father  enjoyed  his  visit  here.  I  am  sure  we  all  did 
exceedingly. 

How  the  boys  are  carrying  everything  before  them  at  school. 
.  .  .  Congratulate  them  for  me,  and  tell  them  to  take  care. 
There  is  such  a  thing  as  overdoing  it. 

So  Banks  is  where  he  was  six  months  ago!  Somebody  has  got 
bad  mismanagement  to  answer  for  there.  Who  is  it  ?  Stanton  ? 
And  Corinth  is  evacuated  and  Richmond  will  be  taken  in  a  week 
or  ten  days.  What  a  time  your  governor  has  been  in.  I  liked 
his  letter  to  Stanton,  but  he  seems  to  have  been  a  good  deal 
scared  afterwards. 

The  great  event  in  the  spring  of  1862  was  the  movement  of 
General  McClellan  from  his  winter  quarters  and  his  advance 
upon  Richmond.  His  inactivity  had  sorely  tried  the  faith 
and  patience  of  the  people,  but  it  was  then  considered  the 
orthodox  attitude  to  believe  in  him.  The  popular  imagina- 
tion had  made  him  a  leader  and  a  hero,  and  it  resented  any 
criticism  which  detracted  from  his  supposed  merit  or  saw  any 
defect  in  his  method.  In  this  feeling  Mr.  Brooks  also 
shared,  as  is  shown  in  his  letters,  which  reflect  the  picture 
of  the  moment,  with  its  hopes  of  a  great  immediate  victory 
which  should  bring  the  war  to  an  end.  While  this  victory 
was  still  deferred,  other  events  sustained  the  popular  faith, 
though  their  relation  to  the  end  of  the  war  seemed  remote, 
—  the  capture  of  New  Orleans  by  Farragut,  the  battle  of 


JOT.  26]      HOLY  TRINITY  CHURCH  403 

Shiloh,  and  the  taking  of  Corinth  (May,  1862),  which  gave  to 
the  North  the  greater  part  of  the  Mississippi  River,  threat- 
ening the  South  with  the  loss  of  Tennessee,  Alabama,  and 
Mississippi.  General  Grant  was  now  first  heard  of  in  the 
West.  His  name  had  not  yet  become  familiar  to  the  people, 
but  the  battle  of  Pittsburg  Landing  revealed  his  character  and 
method,  —  the  record  of  killed,  wounded,  and  missing  was 
24,000.  While  these  events  were  occurring,  Mr.  Brooks 
made  his  first  visit  to  Niagara  Falls. 

Monday  evening,  June  16, 1862. 

MY  DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  I  am  late  this  week,  but  you  must  lay 
it  down  to  the  press  and  rush  consequent  on  getting  home  from 
a  week's  absence.  All  last  week  I  was  away  on  a  Niagara  trip. 
Mr.  Coffin,  my  warden,  was  with  us.  We  left  early  Monday 
morning,  and  went  to  New  York,  where  we  spent  the  day,  and  at 
five  o'clock  took  the  Hudson  River  cars  for  Albany.  You  know 
how  beautiful  tbat  ride  is,  but  I  had  never  been  over  it  before, 
and  enjoyed  it  intensely.  We  spent  the  night  in  Albany  at  the 
Delevan  House,  and  the  next  morning  were  off.  early  by  the  N.  Y. 
Central,  for  the  Falls.  The  ride  across  New  York  State  was  not 
particularly  interesting,  and  we  were  glad  to  get  to  the  Suspen- 
sion Bridge  in  the  evening.  We  went  at  once  across,  and  up  to 
the  Clifton  House,  where  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  found  my- 
self on  other  than  Uncle  Samuel's  Farm.  It  was  dark  when  we 
got  there,  and  so  I  slept  all  night  with  the  roar  of  the  cataract, 
which  I  had  not  yet  seen,  preparing  me  for  the  morning  sight. 
When  I  woke  up,  full  in  the  view  from  my  room  window,  there 
it  was!  Greater  than  any  dream  I  ever  formed  of  it.  More 
wonderful  and  awful  than  any  sight  I  had  supposed  our  world 
could  furnish.  Of  the  next  two  days  I  can't  tell  you  much. 
They  were  spent  in  an  incessant  wandering,  learning  the  miracle 
from  every  point  of  view,  —  under  the  falls  and  over  the  falls,  up 
the  river  and  down  the  river,  from  the  Bridge  and  the  Island  and 
the  Tower,  and  what  is  after  all  the  view  I  remember  most 
vividly,  —  that  grand  sweep  that  you  see  from  the  front  piazza  of 
the  Clifton  House.  We  went  everywhere,  and  got  ourselves  full 
of  tbe  glory  and  beauty  of  Niagara.  The  most  wonderful  thing 
to  me,  I  think,  was  the  color,  both  of  the  falls  and  of  the  river, 
its  changes,  and  depths,  and  brilliancy.  I  never  knew  what 
water  was  before.  The  last  day  of  our  stay  was  at  the  Cataract 
House,  though  we  had  been  over  on  that  side  before.  On  Friday 


404  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

afternoon  we  left  for  Philadelphia,  coming  by  way  of  Buffalo, 
and  Klmira.  and  Williamsburg,  and  Reading,  over  the  famous 
Catawissa  road  whose  scenery  is  more  marvellous  than  any  railroad 
in  the  land.  It  was  a  splendid  day's  ride  on  Saturday,  reaching 
home  about  seven  in  the  evening.  Now  you  have  got  my  last 
week  in  full. 

I  shall  leave  here  two  weeks  from  to-day  and  probably  come 
right  to  Boston.  I  have  about  given  up  the  idea  of  going  to 
Newport.  I  don't  care  much  about  it,  and  want  to  have  as  much 
time  as  possible  at  home  before  I  go  to  the  mountains.  So  look 
for  me  probably  two  weeks  from  to-morrow  morning,  and  then 
"  What  Larks !  "  Affectionately, 

PHILL. 

The  impression  made  upon  him  by  the  vision  of  Niagara 
was  so  vivid,  and  his  whole  nature  so  deeply  stirred,  that  he 
burst  into  song  once  more,  as  in  his  days  at  the  seminary. 
These  lines  from  the  sonnet  which  he  was  moved  to  write 
express  the  feeling  which  the  experience  created.  The  mes- 
sage to  his  soul  was  an  incentive  to  higher  moral  consecra- 
tion:— 

I  would  not  be  the  thing  which  I  have  been, 

O  Christ,  whose  truth  once  spoke  from  winds  and  seas. 

Hast  thou  not  still  for  wretchedness  and  sin, 

Some  message  speaking  out  of  scenes  like  these  ? 

After  six  months  of  hard  labor  in  his  new  position,  he  left 
Philadelphia  on  the  30th  of  June  for  his  well-earned  vaca- 
tion. To  this  he  had  looked  forward  with  the  eagerness  of  a 
schoolboy,  to  whom  the  holiday  is  the  most  real  part  of  his 
existence.  Something  of  this  feeling  inhered  in  Phillips 
Brooks  throughout  his  life.  Hitherto  his  vacations  had  been 
spent  chiefly  at  home  or  in  the  vicinity  of  Boston,  varied  by 
excursions  to  the  old  homestead  in  North  Andover,  where  his 
grandmother  and  his  mother's  sisters  still  resided.  This 
year  his  holiday  was  a  more  elaborate  one ;  he  made  his  first 
visit  to  the  White  Mountains.  On  the  way  to  Boston  he 
stopped  at  Newport,  spending  a  week  with  one  of  his  parish- 
ioners. While  there  he  heard  the  evil  news  of  the  defeat  of 
McClellan  before  Richmond.  Reaching  Boston  on  the  8th 


XT.  26]      HOLY  TRINITY  CHURCH  405 

of  July,  he  began  at  once  to  take  lessons  in  riding.  He  felt 
the  necessity  for  some  more  agreeable  form  of  physical  exer- 
cise than  the  gymnasium,  which  he  had  abandoned  after  a 
short  trial  in  Philadelphia.  For  some  reason  he  did  not  like 
walking,  or  at  any  rate  could  not  be  induced  to  practise  it 
as  a  regular  mode  of  exercise.  Each  day  that  he  spent  in 
Boston  records  a  ride  on  horseback.  He  went  out  to  Cam- 
bridge on  Commencement  Day,  the  16th  of  July,  meeting 
his  classmates,  revelling  in  the  associations  of  those  years 
when  his  spirit  had  first  awakened  to  the  richness  and  ful- 
ness of  the  intellectual  life.  The  Phi  Beta  Kappa  oration 
was  delivered  by  George  William  Curtis,  and  the  dinner  fol- 
lowed in  Harvard  Hall.  Then  there  came  a  week  at  Pom- 
fret,  Conn.,  with  Dr.  Vinton  in  his  summer  home,  where 
there  was  much  theological  talk,  inevitable  where  Dr.  Vinton 
was  present.  Here,  too,  he  preached  as  he  had  done  at 
Newport;  from  preaching  it  was  impossible  that  he  should 
escape. 

Returning  to  Boston  he  spent  several  days  with  his  family, 
in  the  dear  familiar  way,  the  last  time  that  the  family  would 
meet  as  an  unbroken  whole.  Already  the  mother's  heart 
was  heavy  with  anxiety,  for  George  Brooks  was  intend- 
ing to  enlist  as  a  soldier.  The  future  looked  dark,  after 
McClellan's  defeat  with  heavy  slaughter;  but  Boston  was 
girding  itself  anew  to  the  fearful  task,  no  longer  under 
any  illusions  about  McClellan,  or  fond  anticipations  that  the 
end  of  the  struggle  was  near.  Instead  of  dreaming  of  an 
easy  victory  over  the  South,  it  began  to  look  as  though  the 
South  might  prolong  the  contest  indefinitely,  if  not  finally 
secure  its  independence.  A  great  meeting  had  been  held  at 
Faneuil  Hall,  to  aid  in  the  work  of  enlistment,  where  Edward 
Everett  was  one  of  the  speakers,  and  Phillips  Brooks  was 
present  to  hear.  The  excitement  was  intense,  and  under 
these  motives,  that  the  need  was  pressing  and  that  the  call 
had  come  to  him,  George  Brooks  enlisted  as  a  soldier. 

With  his  friends  Richards  and  Strong  Mr.  Brooks  left 
for  the  White  Mountains  on  August  4,  to  make  the  tour, 
not  so  common  then  as  it  is  now,  when  it  was  a  notable 


4o6  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

event  in  the  lives  of  the  three  friends.  The  lessons  in  horse- 
back riding  proved  of  practical  service.  But  he  did  his  share 
of  mountain-climbing  with  the  others,  going  up  Mount  Sus- 
pense and  Mount  Hayes  to  get  his  first  view  of  the  billowy 
mountain  tops  in  what  seemed  like  an  ocean  of  mountains. 
His  headquarters  were  at  the  Glen  House.  He  notes  in  his 
diary  the  effect  upon  him  of  the  extensive  views  and  the 
exquisite  landscape.  In  the  course  of  their  wanderings  the 
party  was  increased  by  the  arrival  of  his  friend,  Mr.  Cooper, 
from  Philadelphia,  and  of  his  brother  William,  from  Boston. 
Here  is  his  record  for  the  day  in  which  the  trip  culminated : 

August  12.  Tuesday.  Six  A.  M.  Started  on  a  great  trip. 
Climbed  Madison,  crossed  its  two  summits,  dined  between  Madi- 
son and  Adams,  climbed  Adams,  crossed  Jefferson  and  Clay,  and 
arrived  at  Tip- top  House  (Mt.  Washington)  at  12.30  A.  M. 
Tired  out. 

Wednesday,  13.  Walked  down  Washington  by  carriage  road ; 
spent  the  rest  of  the  day  at  the  Glen,  resting. 

In  the  "Remembrances  of  Phillips  Brooks  by  Two 
Friends,"  already  referred  to,  Mr.  Richards  has  given  some 
interesting  details  of  this  exhausting  tramp :  — 

Starr  King's  exuberant  volume,  his  rhapsody  on  the  "White 
Hills,"  had  just  been  issued,  and  inspired  us  to  do  what  was  then 
rarely  done,  what  was  known  as  "  going  over  the  Peaks, "  though 
strictly  it  was  going  over  the  northern  Peaks  from  Madison  to 
Washington.  There  were  no  defined  paths,  no  "painted  trails," 
and  guides  were  few.  We  secured  a  man,  a  farmer  in  the  sum- 
mer and  hunter  in  the  winter,  from  the  neighborhood  of  the  Glen 
House,  who  was  said  to  know  the  way.  At  half  past  six  one  fine 
July  morning,  we  started  from  the  hotel,  went  a  couple  of  miles 
or  so  on  the  road  toward  Gorham,  then  struck  across  the  valley 
and  up  the  mountain  side.  It  was  very  steep,  with  much  fallen 
timber  flung  helter-skelter,  in  the  fashion  known  to  mountaineers 
as  "Jack  Straws."  Lifting  ourselves  over  a  huge  log,  we  would 
sink  to  our  middle  in  deep  beds  of  moss.  The  sun  was  fierce,  the 
air  close,  the  black  flies  vigilant.  It  was  discouraging  for  fair 
pedestrians  to  be  told  on  reaching  timber  line,  after  six  hours' 
severe  labor,  that  they  had  walked  from  the  road  perhaps  a  mile 
and  a  half. 

For  the  first  part  of  the  day  Brooks  took  his  share  of  the  work 


MT.  26]      HOLY  TRINITY  CHURCH  407 

as  well  as  any  of  us.  We  had  reached  open  rock  and  fresher 
air.  It  was  blowing  half  a  hurricane;  we  had  meant  to  make 
two  days'  leisurely  work  of  the  trip,  camping  at  the  base  of  Jeffer- 
son. But  our  guide  insisted  that  the  wind  was  too  high,  and 
the  temperature  too  low,  to  make  camping  safe  for  heated  and 
tired  men.  We  must  push  forward.  It  was  sunset  as  we  stood 
on  the  peak  of  Jefferson,  and  saw  the  Carter  Mountains  rimmed 
with  prismatic  colors  across  the  Great  Gulf.  There  was  still  two 
or  three  hours  of  good  work  before  us.  Somewhere  here,  Brooks, 
who  in  those  days  needed  double  rations  and  had  only  been  pro- 
vided for  on  the  scale  of  smaller  men,  began  to  flag.  He  could 
go  no  farther.  He  implored  us  not  to  wait  for  him,  but  to  leave 
him  anywhere  under  the  shelter  of  a  rock,  with  a  shawl,  for  the 
night.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  nobody  would  hear  of  this. 
Spurred  on  by  our  entreaties,  he  would  struggle  on  for  a  few 
minutes  and  then  fling  himself  exhausted  down  for  a  long  rest. 
Night  came  on ;  we  lost  our  way.  The  guide  and  the  compass 
expressed  different  opinions.  At  last  we  guessed  what  was  the 
trouble  with  Brooks ;  some  of  us  fortunately  had  an  egg  or  two  in 
reserve ;  by  careful  feeding  and  patient  resting  he  presently  gained 
a  little  strength;  the  moon  rose,  the  wind  was  in  our  favor,  get- 
ting under  our  packs  and  boosting  us  up  the  last  stiff  climb,  and 
at  a  little  after  midnight  we  reached  the  Tip-top  House.  We 
threw  ourselves  on  the  office  floor,  for  every  bed  was  taken,  and 
we  found  oilcloth  as  slumberous  as  feathers.  Afterwards  with 
my  brother,  on  the  Alps,  Brooks  showed  much  endurance,  going 
anywhere  afoot  and  tiring  lighter  men. 

The  remaining  days  in  the  White  Mountains  were  spent 
at  North  Conway.  The  ascent  of  Kearsarge  was  made  on 
foot;  other  expeditions  followed,  some  of  them  laborious,  and 
the  result  was  finally  a  sprained  ankle,  which  brought  his 
tramp  to  a  close.  Twice  before,  while  in  Virginia,  the  same 
accident  had  happened.  He  returned  at  once  to  Boston, 
where  he  was  confined  to  the  house,  whiling  away  the  time 
till  he  should  be  able  to  walk,  before  he  returned  to  his  work 
in  Philadelphia.  He  read  Max  Miiller  on  the  "Science  of 
Language,"  Henry  Kingsley's  novels,  Taylor's  "St.  Clem- 
ent's Eve,"  Theodore  Winthrop's  "Edwin  Brothertoft,"  Mrs. 
Putnam's  "Tragedy  of  Success,"  Browning's  "Colombe's 
Birthday,"  —  most  of  it  light  reading,  but  indicating  his 
tendency  to  read  what  every  one  else  was  reading.  As  soon 


408  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

as  he  was  able  to  walk,  he  made  his  way  to  the  Athenaeum 
Library,  and  haunted  the  bookstores.  Boston  always  stirred 
him  with  a  desire  to  buy  books;  he  now  gratified  his  incli- 
nation, making  many  additions  to  his  library,  which  was 
already  assuming  large  proportions.  On  the  llth  of  Sep- 
tember he  went  back  to  his  parish. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

SEPTEMBER  TO    DECEMBER,    1862 

THE  CIVIL  WAR.      LINCOLN'S  PROCLAMATION.      THE  FAMILY 
LIFE.      GENERAL  CONVENTION  OF  THE  EPISCOPAL  CHURCH 

IT  would  seem  as  if  Mr.  Brooks  should  have  been  left  un- 
disturbed in  his  large  parish,  after  accomplishing  the  removal 
to  it  from  the  Church  of  the  Advent  with  so  much  difficulty. 
But  soon  after  his  return  he  was  "approached"  with  refer- 
ence to  St.  Paul's  Church,  Brookline,  near  Boston,  then 
vacant  by  the  removal  of  Dr.  Stone  to  the  Philadelphia 
Divinity  School.  The  invitation  to  one  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful of  the  suburbs  of  Boston  could  not  have  been  without 
its  attractions:  an  exquisite  church  built  by  Upjohn,  and 
regarded  as  one  of  his  most  successful  works;  a  parish 
strong  and  devoted,  which  counted  among  other  members 
the  Lawrences,  the  Amorys,  and  the  Winthrops,  —  a  quiet 
rural  parish,  free  from  the  excitement  and  rush  of  the  large 
city,  with  ample  opportunity  for  the  intellectual  culture  he 
hungered  for,  near  his  family  also,  in  the  midst  of  all  dear 
associations.  The  call  to  Brookline  was  the  first  intimation 
that  Boston  was  beginning  to  feel  the  strength  of  its  claim 
upon  one  of  its  own  children.  This  opportunity  declined, 
New  York  put  in  its  case.  In  the  fall  of  this  year,  1862, 
there  came  an  invitation  to  the  rectorship  of  Christ  Church 
on  Fifth  Avenue.  Here  too  the  opportunity  was  represented 
to  be  great,  as  undoubtedly  it  was.  Dr.  Heman  Dyer,  who 
knew  more  about  the  openings  in  the  church  for  growth  and 
influence  than  any  one  else,  but  who  knew  quite  as  well  the 
situation  in  Philadelphia  and  the  feeling  towards  Mr.  Brooks 
in  his  new  parish  of  which  he  had  been  the  rector  not  yet  a 
year,  advised  the  acceptance  of  the  call  to  New  York.  He 


4io  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

probably  reasoned  that  the  young  preacher  was  destined  in 
the  nature  of  the  case  eventually  to  turn  up  in  the  metropolis, 
where  all  things  great  must  centre,  and  if  he  was  to  come 
there  ultimately  he  might  as  well  come  there  at  once.  But 
this  call  was  also  declined  promptly  and  without  much  con- 
sideration. There  were  causes  of  dissatisfaction  in  Mr. 
Brooks's  mind  with  his  position  in  Philadelphia,  as  will  be 
seen  hereafter,  but  these  would  only  have  been  aggravated  by 
exchanging  it  for  New  York. 

Mr.  Brooks  had  evidently  returned  to  Philadelphia  with 
the  determination  to  rescue  all  the  time  at  his  disposal  for 
the  purpose  of  study  and  of  sermon-writing.  He  now  kept 
his  room  at  the  church  every  morning,  bent  on  systematic 
reading,  and  almost  every  week  records  his  written  sermon. 
This  year  and  the  two  following  years  were  fruitful  in  ser- 
mons. He  was  not  a  prolific  sermon-writer.  Many  clergy- 
men could  count  up  at  the  close  of  their  ministry  more 
written  sermons  than  he  has  left.  His  sermons  cost  him 
prolonged  effort ;  above  all  they  demanded  moods  of  creative 
activity,  which  were  not  continuous.  Such  a  creative  period 
was  that  from  1862  to  1865.  During  these  years  he  lived  at 
high  intellectual  tension,  while  his  whole  being  was  wound 
up  to  the  greatest  activity  as  he  followed  the  events  of  the 
war.  To  those  who  knew  Philadelphia  in  those  days,  there 
was  nothing  more  wonderful  in  all  his  career  than  the  utter- 
ances he  poured  forth  so  richly,  apparently  without  effort, 
Sunday  after  Sunday,  never  disappointing  his  vast  congrega- 
tion or  falling  below  himself.  One  of  his  youthful  hearers, 
who  was  then  a  student  in  the  University  of  Pennsylvania, 
and  who  heard  him  frequently,  the  Rev.  William  Wilber- 
force  Newton,  has  described  the  scene :  — 

After  these  days  when  the  young  preacher  was  a  power, 
throned  like  a  king  in  the  pulpit,  which  had  been  built  for  his  old 
friend  and  pastor,  Dr.  Vinton,  and  when  the  boys,  whose  eyes 
like  those  of  Balaam  were  opened,  were  now  in  college,  looking 
forward  to  their  own  coming  ministry,  how  many  and  how  helpful 
were  the  hours  stolen  from  routine  duties,  when  sitting  by  the 
door  of  the  church  on  Rittenhouse  Square,  they  listened  to  the 
voice  and  drank  in  the  full,  deep  inspiration  of  that  nobly 


MT.  26]  THE  CIVIL  WAR  411 

anointed  nature.  Many  a  Sunday  afternoon  when  the  wide  doors 
of  that  church  were  thrown  hack,  and  the  crowds  flocked  out  into 
the  open  air,  it  seemed  to  those  listeners  coming  out  into  the 
street  again  as  if  the  very  heavens  were  on  fire,  not  hecause  the 
sun  was  setting  across  the  Schuylkill,  but  because  the  preacher  had 
projected  a  light  into  the  open  sky  of  the  heavens,  —  the  light  of 
the  mystic,  the  light  of  the  prophet,  the  light  which  never  was  on 
tea  or  land. 

Even  at  this  early  moment  in  his  history  the  recognition 
of  his  character,  of  his  transparent  honesty  and  sincerity, 
had  won  the  confidence  of  his  hearers  to  such  an  extent  that 
anything  he  might  say  in  the  pulpit  gained  an  increased 
force  from  the  weight  of  his  personality.  Even  if  he  said 
but  little,  or  repeated  what  was  familiar,  or  stammered  under 
the  consciousness  of  lack  of  preparation,  yet  he  still  exerted 
a  charm  by  his  appearance ;  the  mysterious  force  of  his  inner 
being  went  forth  undiminished  to  fascinate  those  who  listened 
to  him.  A  clergyman  who  went  to  hear  him  for  the  first 
time  became  convinced  as  the  address  proceeded  that  the 
preacher  was  unprepared,  and  was  struggling  with  great 
difficulty,  talking  somewhat  at  random  if  not  incoherently. 
But  as  he  came  away  after  the  service  was  over  he  heard 
around  him  the  usual  plaudits  of  delight  and  satisfaction. 
Afterwards  when  he  came  to  know  Mr.  Brooks  he  asked 
him  if  he  had  been  right  in  surmising  that  on  this  occasion, 
which  he  recalled,  there  were  not  some  lack  of  preparation. 
The  answer  was  that  up  to  the  last  moment  before  going  to 
church  he  had  depended  on  Dr.  Vinton  to  preach  for  him. 
But  Dr.  Vinton  had  felt  indisposed,  had  left  him  in  the 
lurch,  telling  him  it  would  be  good  discipline  for  Lent;  and 
struggle  as  he  might,  he  found  he  could  not  get  into  the  sub- 
ject he  had  hastily  chosen  for  his  address. 

The  autumn  months  of  1862  were  the  darkest  in  the 
whole  history  of  the  war.  McClellan  had  been  outgeneralled, 
his  large  army  defeated  with  immense  loss  of  life,  while  the 
Southern  forces,  gaining  new  hope  and  energy,  had  begun  to 
act  on  the  offensive,  carrying  the  war  into  the  North  and 
threatening  the  capital.  The  prospect  of  bringing  the  war 


4i2  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

to  an  end  by  the  capture  of  Richmond  vanished  into  the 
remote  future.  If  it  was  to  be  done  at  all,  it  could  only  be 
accomplished  by  the  conquest  of  the  whole  Southern  terri- 
tory, the  Northern  army  gradually  closing  in  upon  the  Con- 
federate capital  from  the  west  and  south  as  well  as  from 
the  north.  To  do  this,  required  not  only  the  indefinite  pro- 
longation of  the  war,  but  must  be  attended  by  an  appalling 
slaughter  of  human  lives.  The  total  loss  in  the  engage- 
ments between  the  two  armies  which  had  ended  in  the  defeat 
of  McClellan  CJune  26-July  2,  1862)  was  36,000  men,  and 
this  was  but  a  foretaste  of  greater  destruction  yet  to  come. 
It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  country  trembled  at  the 
prospect,  or  that  many  in  the  North  who  had  hitherto  sup- 
ported the  war  should  draw  back,  seeking  some  compromise 
by  which  the  slaughter,  too  terrible  to  be  contemplated, 
might  be  averted,  even  at  the  expense  of  Southern  independ- 
ence. The  Brooks  family  had  now  yielded  up  one  of  its 
members  as  a  contribution  to  the  great  cause,  and  all  the 
more  intense  was  its  sympathy,  its  agony,  as  the  melancholy 
situation  became  more  evident.  The  spirit  with  which 
George  Brooks  had  enlisted  is  indicated  in  a  passage  from 
a  letter  to  his  mother :  "  One  thing  you  may  be  sure  of,  I 
shall  try  to  do  all  my  duty  to  my  God  and  my  country.  Do 
not  fear  for  me,  but  do  as  you  promised  you  would,  and  as  I 
hope  I  have  done  myself :  commit  me  entirely  to  God,  keep- 
ing trust  in  Him  and  the  blessed  Saviour  whatever  may 
happen." 

At  this  time  President  Lincoln  was  contemplating  his 
Proclamation  of  the  Emancipation  of  the  slaves.  It  was  to  be 
a  war  measure  and  justified  solely  on  that  ground,  not  on 
any  principle  of  the  inherent  wrong  and  evil  of  slavery.  The 
object  of  the  war  was  the  preservation  of  the  Union.  If  it 
would  embarrass  the  South  in  the  prosecution  of  its  purpose 
to  free  the  slaves,  then  the  act  of  Emancipation  would  be 
justified.  On  political  grounds  it  might  have  been  ques- 
tioned whether  such  an  act  would  be  constitutional.  As 
a  war  measure,  put  forth  in  an  emergency,  it  assumed  a 
different  aspect. 


MT.  26]  THE  CIVIL   WAR  413 

Mr.  Lincoln  had  turned  the  question  over  in  his  mind, 
not  as  a  reformer,  but  as  a  statesman.  He  saw  clearly  that 
such  a  proclamation  would  unite  the  North  and  stimulate  its 
energy  to  pursue  the  conflict.  The  reformers  who  demanded 
the  abolition  of  slavery  on  abstract  principles  of  right  would 
be  appeased,  while  others  who  were  indifferent  to  the  moral 
issue  would  regard  it  as  an  effective  stroke  for  the  accom- 
plishment of  the  great  end,  the  integrity  of  the  nation.  To 
have  put  forth  his  Proclamation  immediately  after  the  dis- 
astrous defeat  of  the  Northern  army  before  Richmond  would 
have  been  impolitic,  —  a  cry  of  distress  or  an  acknowledg- 
ment of  inability  on  the  part  of  the  Union  forces  to  cope 
with  the  enemy  on  equal  terms.  He  therefore  held  back  his 
Proclamation  until  some  victory  of  Union  arms  should  consti- 
tute a  more  fitting  opportunity.  On  September  22,  1862, 
the  public  announcement  was  made  that  on  the  first  day  of 
January,  1863,  the  slaves  should  be  declared  free  in  every 
part  of  the  country  at  war  with  the  United  States.  With 
this  Proclamation,  Phillips  Brooks  was  inspired  to  a  more 
complete  identification  of  himself  with  the  issues  of  the 
war. 

Notwithstanding  the  duties  and  burdens  of  his  large 
parish,  he  not  only  wrote  frequently  to  his  father  and  main- 
tained his  custom  of  sending  every  week  a  sort  of  family  let- 
ter to  his  older  brother,  but  he  enlarged  his  correspondence 
to  include  his  younger  brothers,  George  and  Frederick.  His 
attitude  was  that  of  one  always  conscious  of  his  membership 
in  the  family  as  if  it  were  still  his  most  important  relation- 
ship; he  was  one  of  the  home  circle  on  a  temporary  absence. 
He  had  not  outgrown  the  child  life  in  becoming  a  man.  In- 
deed, the  sense  of  the  clearness  and  beauty  of  the  home  life 
grew  stronger  as  he  now  contemplated  it  from  a  distance. 
After  the  enlistment  of  George  Brooks,  the  two  brothers  came 
into  the  closest  mutual  confidence. 

The  prospect  of  the  war  was  of  course  the  uppermost  theme 
in  the  long  correspondence.  The  letters  of  Phillips  Brooks 
are  in  harmony  with  the  popular  sentiment  in  regard  to 
McClellan.  That  was  one  of  the  leading  traits  of  his  char- 


4H  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

acter  all  his  life,  that  he  never  failed  to  share  in  these 
popular  convictions,  sheathing  his  critical  faculty  where  the 
people's  faith  was  concerned,  clinging  even  to  those  faiths 
when  evidence  was  against  them,  and  reluctant  to  let  them 
go.  He  found  it  hard  to  give  up  his  faith  in  McClellan, 
thinking  that  if  he  had  only  been  let  alone  he  might  have 
done  the  great  things  which  were  expected  of  him. 

PHILADELPHIA,  September  12,  1862. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  Safe  back  again,  settled  down  in  my  old 
place,  and  finding  it  hard  to  realize  that  it  was  only  yesterday 
evening  that  we  were  all  grouped  around  the  back-parlor  table, 
eating  our  pears,  and  John  his  apples.  We  had  a  very  pleasant 
night  on  the  Sound,  but  did  not  get  to  New  York  till  eight 
o'clock,  and  had  to  wait  till  the  ten  o'clock  train  for  Philadelphia, 
so  that  I  did  not  arrive  here  till  the  middle  of  the  afternoon. 
Found  everything  here  a  good  deal  excited;  troops  starting  off  for 
Harrisburg  under  the  governor's  orders,  and  some  people  trying  to 
make  out  that  Philadelphia  is  in  danger.  Of  this  latter,  however, 
there  is  no  fear,  and  business,  with  the  exception  of  the  with- 
drawal of  a  great  many  men  for  military  service,  goes  on  as  usual. 
Every  one  is  counting  much  on  the  heavy  rain  of  last  night,  which 
has  made  a  tremendous  flood,  and  it  is  hoped  has  bemmed  in  the 
enemy  between  impassable  rivers.  At  any  rate  everybody  here  is 
confident  and  full  of  faith  in  the  government  and  in  McClellan. 

Tell  Fred  that  I  met  Dr.  Mitchell  at  Newport,  and  came  on 
with  him.  .  .  .  He  gave  me  an  account  from  Dr.  McClellan,  the 
general's  brother,  of  the  general's  behavior  during  his  late  sup- 
pression and  of  his  relations  to  Stanton,1  which  I  promised  him 
not  to  repeat,  but  which  sounds  very  reasonable,  and  certainly 
makes  General  McClellan  out  to  be  a  very  noble  man. 

So  vacation  's  over,  and  we  're  back  at  work  again !  Have  n't 
we  had  a  nice  time !  Next  summer  we  '11  do  it  over  again. 

PHILADELPHIA,  Monday  evening,  September  15,  1832. 
DEAREST  MOTHER,  —  I  feel  homesick  to-night,  and  you  shall 
have  the  advantage,  or  the  disadvantage,  of  it  in  the  shape  of  a 
letter.  Besides,  I  want  to  congratulate  you  on  the  good  news 
which  we  have  been  getting  all  day,  and  which  has  relieved  a  great 
many  anxious  minds  in  Pennsylvania.*  All  has  been  very  excited 

1  Hon.  E.  M.  Stanton,  Secretary  of  War. 

2  The  collapse  of  Lee's  invasion  of  Maryland,  which  threatened  the  city  of 
Philadelphia  if  it  were  successful. 


JET.  26]  THE   CIVIL   WAR  415 

since  my  return  —  troops  off  for  Harrisburg  all  the  time,  and  every- 
body drilling.  It  is  hard  to  think  that  we  have  been  in  such 
danger  as  some  people  imagine,  but  no  doubt  all  the  precautions 
taken  were  wise,  and  the  enthusiasm  they  have  stirred  up  will  do 
much  to  help  on  enlistment.  Almost  all  the  able-bodied  men  of 
my  church  are  off  to  Harrisburg. 

I  am  comfortably  fixed  in  my  rooms  again,  and  for  the  present 
am  the  only  boarder  in  the  house.  I  rather  like  it ;  have  my 
meals  alone  and  when  I  please,  and  am  generally  more  independ- 
ent than  when  the  house  was  full.  That  wedding  came  off  on 
Saturday  morning.  All  went  well;  fee  $20.  Yesterday  I 
preached  all  day;  very  good  congregations,  although  the  excite- 
ment was  intense,  and  made  the  day  a  very  distracted  one.  I 
went  home  after  service,  and  took  tea  and  spent  the  evening  at 
Mr.  Cooper's.  My  church  is  wholly  done  and  very  beautiful. 
The  painting  is  splendidly  executed  and  all  in  good  taste.  Every- 
body seems  to  like  it.  The  people  are  still  largely  out  of  town, 
and  our  congregations  yesterday  were  much  made  up  of  strangers. 

My  ankle  has  given  no  trouble,  and  seems  perfectly  well.  I 
suppose  George  has  gone  into  camp  to-day.  I  shall  depend  on 
seeing  him  as  he  goes  through  here.  My  warmest  love  to  him, 
and  please  send  me  his  camp  address.  .  .  .  Give  lots  of  love  to 
everybody,  and  keep  twice  as  much  for  yourself  from 

Your  affectionate  boy,          PHILLIPS. 

His  interest  in  the  war  would  have  led  him  to  accept  a 
chaplaincy  if  it  had  been  offered  to  him.  He  expected  an 
appointment,  but  why  it  failed  to  be  made  does  not  appear. 
His  father  was  aware  of  the  plan  and  dissuaded  him  from  it. 
But  these  paternal  remonstrances  were  made  in  the  expecta- 
tion that  the  son  would  obey  his  own  sense  of  duty. 

PHILADELPHIA,  Friday  evening,  September  19,  1862. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  letter  of 
Tuesday  which  I  was  very  glad  to  get.  It  seems  so  much  more 
than  a  single  week  since  I  got  back  here.  .  .  .  We  are  still 
sending  off  to  Harrisburg  and  Hagerstown,  though  it  would  seem 
as  if  the  necessity  were  about  over  now.  Very  many  of  my  con- 
gregation have  gone,  and  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  preach  almost 
entirely  to  the  females  for  the  present.  A  great  many  families 
are  still  out  of  town.  We  shall  not  be  fairly  under  way  again 
till  the  middle  of  next  month. 

So   the  rebels,   as  we  hear  to-night,  have   got   off   again   in 


4i 6  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1862 

Virginia.  I  am  sorry  for  it,  for  I  have  been  in  hopes  that  they 
were  going  to  make  an  end  of  them  in  Maryland.  Then  Harper's 
Ferry  was  a  bad  business,  and  so  is  this  which  we  hear  to-day 
from  Mumfordville.  Still  McClellan  has  won  a  victory,  and  we 
are  a  little  nearer  the  end  than  we  were.  I  heard  yesterday  that 
1  was  to  be  asked  to  the  chaplaincy  of  a  new  regiment  now  rais- 
ing here.  If  I  am  I  think  I  shall  go.  I  should  like  very  much 
to  see  George  in  his  camp  life.  I  mean  to  write  to  him  as  soon 
as  I  get  his  address.  Give  my  love  to  him,  and  tell  him  the 
Volunteer  Refreshment  Saloon  is  in  full  blast.  We  are  having 
warm  weather,  but  it  is  very  pleasant,  and  people  look  so  muck 
more  cheerful  these  last  few  days  that  we  begin  to  feel  as  if  we 
might  get  through  one  of  these  days  after  all.  Please  write  soon 
again.  Your  affectionate  son, 

PHILLIPS. 

It  was  a  question  much  discussed,  concerning  which  also 
opinion  in  the  North  was  greatly  divided,  whether  the  object 
of  the  war  was  to  abolish  slavery,  or  rather  primarily  to 
maintain  the  union  of  the  States  in  national  integrity.  Upon 
this  point  Phillips  Brooks  did  not  take  sides,  but  rather 
combined  the  two  attitudes  in  one  issue.  Although  the 
question  was  brought  before  him  while  he  was  in  college, 
whether  it  was  not  a  duty  to  bring  about  the  abolition  of 
slavery  by  any  methods  or  at  any  cost,  even  at  the  expense 
of  civil  war,  yet  he  never  quite  threw  in  his  lot  with  the 
school  of  Northern  abolitionists,  though  even  then  he  had  a 
certain  subordinate  sympathy  with  their  position.  At  least 
he  did  not  join  their  ranks  as  he  might  have  done,  or  contrib- 
ute to  the  agitation  which  ultimately  resulted  in  war.  His 
father  was  one  of  many  in  Boston  at  the  time  who,  while 
they  looked  upon  slavery  as  an  evil  to  be  got  rid  of,  preferred 
to  keep  the  question  in  abeyance  for  fear  it  would  lead  to 
disrupting  the  Union.  Such  had  been  the  attitude  of  Daniel 
Webster,  —  a  willingness  to  make  sacrifices,  to  postpone 
action,  to  effect  compromises,  rather  than  force  the  issue. 
The  process  of  years,  the  growth  of  sentiment,  legislative 
expedients,  the  unknown  and  unexpected  element  in  human 
affairs,  —  they  would  trust  to  these  for  relief  rather  than  con- 
tend for  the  abstract  principle  involved  in  the  issue  of  human 


.  26]  THE   CIVIL   WAR  417 

slavery.  Upon  this  point  Phillips  Brooks  now  appears  as 
diverging  distinctly  and  emphatically  from  his  father's  atti- 
tude. In  his  father's  position  lay  the  latent  principle  that 
the  unity  of  the  State  was  higher  and  more  sacred  than  any 
other  cause.  To  this  his  son  added  the  conviction  that  the 
life  of  the  State  demanded  the  abolition  of  slavery  as  the 
first  condition  of  national  unity.  Hence  he  hailed  with 
enthusiasm  the  Proclamation  of  Lincoln,  on  September  22, 
which  foretold  its  downfall.  The  devotion  to  moral  princi- 
ples and  ideal  truths  ran  in  the  Phillips  blood.  But  there 
was  no  tendency  thus  far  in  Phillips  Brooks  to  any  extreme 
or  doctrinaire  advocacy  of  such  principles.  His  distinguished 
kinsman,  Wendell  Phillips,  could  denounce  the  Proclamation 
of  Lincoln,  even  though  it  was  to  accomplish  the  desired 
end,  because  it  was  not  grounded  on  the  abstract  truth  that 
human  slavery  was  an  evil  which  in  the  nature  of  the  case 
could  not  and  should  not  be  tolerated.  Phillips  Brooks  was 
grateful  that  the  exigencies  of  the  State  created  an  occasion 
which  justified  the  State  in  accomplishing  the  purpose  in 
its  own  way.  Whether  the  abstract  moral  principle  were 
proclaimed  or  not  by  the  State  was  a  question  not  affecting 
the  reality. 

Friday  evening,  September  26,  1862. 

MY  DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  What  a  week  this  has  been  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  country,  —  the  greatest  in  one  point,  I  believe,  since 
the  country  was  born.  We  have  heard  the  Proclamation  of 
Freedom  promised  from  the  President's  chair.  I  am  sure  for 
once  we  may  go  with  the  "Tribune  "  and  say,  God  bless  Abraham 
Lincoln.  What  do  they  say  about  it  in  Boston?  Our  troops  are 
fast  coming  back  to  Philadelphia,  who  have  been  off  to  the  Border 
and  into  Maryland,  for  the  protection  of  the  State.  They  have 
done  well,  and  deserve  the  welcome  they  are  getting  on  their  re- 
turn. What  is  it  about  aunt  Susan  going  off  ? 1  I  have  heard 
nothing  of  it.  It  comes  pretty  hard  to  buckle  down  to  work 
again  in  times  like  these. 

1  His  mother's  sister,  Miss  Susan  Phillips,  who  volunteered  her  services  as  a 
none,  and  was  for  some  time  in  a  hospital  in  Annapolis.  She  was  a  member  of 
the  family,  residing  for  the  most  part  with  her  sister,  and  greatly  beloved  by 
sll  the  children. 


4i  8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

Friday  evening,  September  26,  1862. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  have  just  received  your  letter  and  mother's 
in  the  same  envelope,  and  I  ought  to  write  and  say  that  I  have 
heard  nothing  more  aa  yet  about  the  chaplaincy,  and  do  not  know 
that  I  shall.  I  am  all  ready  to  go,  and  if  I  get  the  invitation  I 
probably  shall  go,  but  I  may  not  get  it  after  all.  I  will  let  you 
hear  of  it  as  soon  as  I  do. 

I  am  sincerely  glad  to  see  the  President's  Proclamation.  We 
have  been  getting  ready  for  it  for  a  year.  It  remains  to  be  seen 
whether  we  are  wholly  ready  for  it  now.  If  we  are  as  I  hope 
we  are,  then  it  is  the  greatest  and  most  glorious  thing  our  land 
has  ever  seen.  We  have  broken  off  at  last  our  great  iniquity  and 
may  go  on  our  way  with  some  hope  of  a  blessing.  I  have  just 
returned  from  attending  the  funeral  of  our  friend,  Dr.  Mitchell's 
wife.  She  died  very  suddenly  on  Sunday  of  Diphtheria.  I  came 
on  with  him  and  her,  from  Newport,  on  my  return  from  Boston. 

To  this  letter  his  father  replied :  — 

I  do  not  go  into  the  raptures  you  do  over  that  Emancipation 
Proclamation.  It  ///"//  be  a  very  good  thing,  it  may  do  a  vast 
deal  of  good,  but  that  remains  to  be  proved ;  and  it  may  prove  a 
mere  nullity.  One  thing  is  certain,  it  was  a  measure  of  great 
responsibility  for  the  President  to  undertake. 

There  are  but  few  allusions  to  the  fortunes  of  the  war  in 
the  letters  written  at  this  time  by  the  mother  of  Phillips 
Brooks.  After  her  son  George  had  enlisted  the  war  was  to 
her  more  than  ever  "a  war  to  be  abhorred  by  mothers."  But 
the  inward  agony  was  assuaged  by  an  event  which  in  her  mind 
counted  for  more  than  any  earthly  victories  or  defeats.  That 
event  was  the  confirmation  of  George  at  Trinity  Church, 
Boston,  September  28,  1862.  To  the  end  of  her  life  she 
sacredly  observed  the  day  as  her  crown  of  rejoicing,  the 
signal  mark  of  God's  great  goodness.  For  many  years  she 
had  prayed  and  agonized  and  waited  for  this  result.  She 
could  not  know  happiness  until  it  had  been  accomplished. 
She  had  availed  herself  of  every  appeal  that  she  could  bring 
to  bear ;  for  years  she  besought  Phillips  in  her  letters  to  use 
his  influence,  but  all  seemed  in  vain.  She  continued  to 
hope,  to  pray,  and  to  struggle,  and  when  after  the  long  delay 
the  consummation  was  attained,  it  threw  into  the  shadow  of 


MT.  26]  THE  CIVIL  WAR  419 

the  unimportant  all  other  events  and  circumstances,  even  the 
sad  parting  when  he  embarked  for  the  war.  She  could  let 
him  go  with  composure,  for  the  one  transcendent  issue  of  life 
had  been  met ;  he  had  been  reborn  into  the  spiritual,  and  had 
become  the  child  of  God.  To  reproduce  the  picture  is  here 
impossible.  It  was  for  years  the  tragedy  of  the  mother's 
life.  The  scene  is  too  sacred  to  unveil,  —  the  long  sorrow 
and  inward  bemoaning  followed  by  the  inexpressible  joy  and 
gratitude.  But  something  of  the  story  may  be  told,  for  more 
than  any  other  incident  in  her  life  it  reveals  the  mother  as 
she  continued  to  live  in  the  character,  the  preaching,  the  one 
absorbing  purpose  of  Phillips  Brooks. 

George  Brooks  was  born  in  1838,  and  had  nearly  reached 
the  age  of  twenty-four  before  his  mother  could  rejoice  in  his 
second  birth.  His  name  recalls  the  founder  of  the  Phillips 
family  in  America.  He  was  greatly  gifted,  carrying  himself 
with  the  consciousness  of  power,  attractive  in  his  personal 
appearance,  where  manly  sincerity  was  stamped.  He  was 
good  and  kind  in  all  his  relationships,  with  a  singular  mix- 
ture of  sweetness  and  strength,  which  made  him  a  favorite, 
and  more  particularly  at  home  with  father  and  mother  and 
brothers.  If  any  one  son  was  a  favorite  with  the  parents 
more  than  another,  it  was  he.  Their  hearts  went  out  to  him 
all  the  more  because  of  the  discouraging  failures  he  encoun- 
tered in  finding  a  career,  —  disappointments  which  he  bore 
without  complaint  and  with  no  diminution  of  courage.  He 
did  not  go  to  college,  for  he  had  no  taste  for  the  classics, 
without  which  a  college  course  was  then  impossible.  Nor 
was  he  attracted  by  literary  or  professional  pursuits,  although 
not  without  a  native  capacity  for  literary  expression.  He  was 
practical,  scientific  in  his  turn  of  mind,  a  man  who  wished  to 
deal  with  outward  nature  on  the  closest  terms.  His  natural 
inclination  was  towards  an  outdoor  life.  Above  other  call- 
ings he  preferred  the  life  of  a  farmer,  with  its  simplicity  and 
independence,  its  naturalness,  as  most  befitting  a  man  in  this 
world.  Twice  he  made  the  experiment  of  farming,  in  Ver- 
mont and  in  New  York,  but  only  to  realize  that  there  was  no 
opening  for  him  in  that  direction.  He  would  have  found 


42o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

what  he  was  searching  for  in  the  great  ranches  of  the  West, 
but  this  opportunity  did  not  then  exist.  From  agriculture  he 
turned  to  chemistry,  as  bringing  him  close  to  the  secrets  of 
nature,  entering  the  Lawrence  Scientific  School  of  Harvard, 
where  he  graduated  with  high  distinction  in  1861.  But  again 
he  was  doomed  to  disappointment  before  securing  a  perma- 
nent position.  An  opening  had  at  last  presented  itself 
through  the  influence  of  his  brother  in  connection  with  the 
chemical  firm  of  Powers  &  Weightman,  in  Philadelphia, 
where  he  might  have  had  ample  scope  for  the  exercise  of  his 
native  gifts,  when  he  felt  the  call  to  join  himself  to  the 
service  of  his  country.  On  August  12,  1862,  he  enlisted  in 
Company  A  of  the  45th  Regiment,  in  command  of  Colonel 
Charles  R.  Codman.  The  regiment  included  in  its  ranks 
young  men  of  the  best  blood  and  highest  culture  in  Boston, 
raised  as  it  was  under  the  auspices  of  the  Independent  Com- 
pany of  Cadets,  —  the  bodyguard  of  the  Governor  of  Massa- 
chusetts. The  chaplain  was  the  Rev.  A.  L.  Stone,  the  pastor 
of  the  Park  Street  Church. 

Such  were  the  few  external  circumstances  in  the  life  of 
George  Brooks.  It  is  in  his  spiritual  history  that  the  highest 
interest  centred.  When  Bishop  Eastburn  announced  that 
he  would  hold  a  special  confirmation  service  for  those  about 
to  leave  for  the  war,  George  was  among  those  who  had  pre- 
sented themselves  for  the  sacred  rite.  The  long  impenetrable 
reserve  yielded  at  last.  Why  he  had  delayed,  why  he  had 
allowed  year  after  year  to  go  by  without  taking  the  decisive 
step,  he  did  not,  perhaps  could  not,  tell.  Phillips  had  gone 
through  a  similar  experience.  When  his  mother  had  called 
upon  him  to  write  to  George  or  to  talk  with  him  in  those 
anxious  years,  he  had  made  no  response,  for  he  had  hardly 
yet  reached  for  himself  the  recognition  of  the  spiritual  as 
the  highest  interpretation  of  life.  But  now  when  the  whole 
family  was  moved  by  the  greatest  event  as  yet  in  its  history 
as  a  family,  he  overcame  the  natural  reluctance  to  intrude 
upon  a  brother's  reserve,  and  wrote  to  him  from  the  White 
Mountains,  where  he  was  spending  the  vacation,  an  urgent 
appeal  to  make  the  supreme  act  of  self -surrender.  It  was 


MT.  26]  THE   CIVIL  WAR  421 

not  only  a  great  moment  in  the  life  of  George  Brooks,  but  of 
Phillips  as  well.  From  this  time  the  last  barriers  which 
hindered  the  full  flow  of  the  feelings  seem  to  disappear.  The 
tone  of  his  letters  changes;  they  are  less  formal,  marked  by 
free  expressions  of  deeper  and  stronger  affection ;  his  sense 
of  the  united  consciousness  of  the  family  life  grows  more 
intense.  The  response  of  George  Brooks  to  his  brother's 
appeal  was  written  just  after  his  confirmation :  — 

CAMP  MEIGS,  October  2, 1862. 

Since  you  have  been  gone,  Phill,  I  have  reproached  myself  over 
and  over  again  for  having  allowed  your  Conway  letter  to  go  un- 
answered, and  for  not  having  met  you  more  heartily  and  unre- 
servedly when  you  spoke  to  me  of  the  same  matter.  I  want  you 
to  believe  me  when  I  say  that  it  was  simple  reserve  and  not  a 
want  of  interest  or  determination  not  to  discuss  the  subject. 

What  you  have  said  to  me  I  have  thought  much  of,  and  feel  it 
has  aided  me  greatly  to  see  my  way  clearly,  as  I  hope  I  now  do. 

I  have  become  convinced  that  with  my  mind  in  its  present 
state  it  is  my  duty  to  hesitate  no  longer,  but  to  confess  Christ  at 
once,  to  place  myself  determinedly  among  His  followers,  and  to 
trust  in  His  grace  for  strength  to  continue  His  servant  and  fol- 
lower. I  feel  that  I  can  trust  only  in  Him  for  salvation,  and 
know  that  He  will  accept  me  if  I  do  thus  acknowledge  and  trust 
in  Him. 

And  I  was  most  thankful  for  the  opportunity  of  publicly  con- 
fessing Him,  which  the  bishop  gave  us  at  Trinity  Church  last 
Sunday  morning,  and  trust  that  I  may  be  aided  to  maintain  by 
word  and  deed  the  profession  I  made  there. 

The  religious  influences  in  our  company  are  really  very  great, 
and  as  we  now  start  it  seems  as  if  we  should  be  able  to  withstand 
the  contrary  influences  of  camp  life.  We  have  a  company  prayer 
meeting  Monday  and  Friday  evenings,  and  Captain  Sturgis  has 
instituted  morning  and  evening  prayers,  to  be  conducted  by  him- 
self or  one  of  the  other  commissioned  officers. 

Please  excuse  me  for  writing  so  long  a  letter.  Next  time  I 
will  write  less  and  more  promptly.  Please  answer  me  soon,  very 
soon.  Your  affectionate  brother, 

GEORGE. 

Phillips  wrote  at  once  to  his  mother  after  receiving  her 
letter,  telling  of  George's  confirmation :  — 

I  can  write  you  but  a  line  to  congratulate  you  on  the  good 


PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

news  of  your  lost  letter,  but  I  do  congratulate  you  and  rejoice 
with  you  with  all  my  heart.  I  know  how  much  you  have  desired 
and  prayed  for  it,  and  I  know  the  granting  of  this  prayer  will 
give  you  faith  to  trust  God  for  all  the  rest  as  concerns  George. 
I  have  just  written  to  him.  I  shall  think  of  you  on  Sunday. 

The  Sunday  on  which  his  thoughts  were  to  be  with  his 
mother  was  to  witness  the  first  communion  when  George 
would  kneel  at  his  mother's  side,  as  Phillips  had  done  on 
a  day  ever  afterwards  memorable  to  her.  When  she  was 
greatly  moved  she  put  on  record  her  feelings.  There  are  but 
few  of  these  memoranda;  they  all  relate  to  the  important 
spiritual  incidents,  the  spiritual  victories,  in  her  history  at) 
a  wife  and  mother :  — 

September  27,  1862,  Saturday  evening.  This  has  been  a  blessed 
day  indeed  to  me,  when  my  dear  George  has  told  me  that  he  has 
decided  to  be  confirmed.  How  good  God  has  been  to  me !  I  will 
praise  Him  for  it  throughout  Eternity.  Oh,  the  wonderful  way  in 
which  God  has  led  him !  How  strange  are  all  the  steps  out  of  dark- 
ness into  light!  Praised  be  bis  blessed  name  forever  and  ever. 

MOTHER. 

September  28,  Sunday  morning,  six  o'clock.  What  a  happy 
Sunday  has  dawned  upon  me.  My  dear  George  has  been  con- 
firmed. All  my  prayers  are  at  length  answered,  —  the  summit 
of  my  wishes  attained.  How  good  God  has  been.  Let  my  trust 
and  faith  in  Him  never  waver  again.  M.  A.  B. 

September  28,  1862,  Sunday  evening.  What  a  happy,  blessed 
day  this  has  been  to  me!  My  dear  George,  for  whom  I  have 
prayed  and  longed  and  agonized  for  so  many  years,  has  to-day 
confessed  his  Saviour  in  Trinity  Church,  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
three  years,  before  he  leaves  us  for  the  war.  My  desires  and 
prayers  have  been  granted.  My  eyes  have  seen  the  blessed  sight 
so  ardently  longed  for.  I  want  never  to  lose  the  vivid  impression 
of  that  beautiful  scene.  ...  I  will  never  cease  throughout  Eter- 
nity to  praise  Him  for  this  last  great  mercy,  and  for  all  the  won- 
derful works  He  has  done  in  my  family.  Four  of  my  dear  chil- 
dren are  now  safe  in  His  fold,  and  oh,  may  the  dear  remaining 
ones  be  speedily  brought  in !  And  for  this,  and  all  this  goodness, 
I  will  praise  his  blessed  name  forever  and  ever. 

October  5,  1862,  Sunday  morning.  Blessed  be  God  for  this 
long-desired  and  blessed  day,  in  which  I  hope  to  take  the  Com- 


Phillips  Brooks  and  his  Mother,  from  Family  Group,  1862 


JET.  26]  THE  CIVIL  WAR  423 

munion  with  my  dear  George.  God  has  heard  all  my  desires,  and 
my  groanings  were  not  hid  from  Him.  Oh,  forever  praised  be 
His  blessed  name.  Let  me  never  forget  this  day  and  all  God's 
goodness  to  me.  MOTHER. 

October  5,  1862,  Sunday  evening.  'T  is  done,  the  great  trans- 
action 's  done.  Oh,  happy  day !  I  have  had  the  infinite  joy  of 
taking  the  Holy  Sacrament,  side  by  side  with  my  dearest  George. 
God  has  at  last  in  His  own  good  time  answered  my  prayers  and 
accepted  the  offering  of  my  child,  which  I  have  for  so  long  laid 
on  His  altar,  and  I  have  been  able  to  say  to-day :  Here,  Lord,  am 
I  and  the  child  Thou  hast  given  me.  How  great  and  good  God  is 
to  answer  my  prayers  so  wonderfully,  and  to  make  the  poor  dead 
heart  of  my  child  to  seek  his  blessed  Saviour !  This  blessing  shall 
never  grow  old.  It  shall  always  be  fresh  as  on  this  blessed  day, 
and  I  will  never  forget  to  praise  Him  for  it.  I  will  begin  now  to 
sing  my  eternal  song  of  praise  on  earth  that  I  hope  to  sing  with 
all  my  dear  children,  and  the  heavenly  choir,  before  the  throne 
throughout  eternity. 

And  now  I  will  commit  him  to  the  care  of  his  Covenant  God, 
who  will  never  forsake  His  child  who  has  fled  to  Him  in  time  of 
danger.  May  He  ever  be  near  him,  shield  him  in  the  day  of 
battle,  surround  him  with  His  blessing,  and  bring  him  safe  through 
every  danger  to  his  dear  home  and  anxious  friends  again.  And 
the  praise  shall  be  His  forever.  But  if  he  fall  in  battle  or  die 
e'er  my  eyes  behold  him  again,  oh,  may  his  Saviour  grant  him 
an  abundant  entrance  into  His  heavenly  kingdom,  to  dwell  with 
Him  in  glory  forever. 

Heavenly  Father,  wilt  Thou  grant  a  mother's  prayer  for  Thy 
dear  Son's  sake.  Amen. 

After  his  enlistment  George  had  gone  into  camp  at  Read- 
ville,  and  it  was  not  until  November  10  that  he  sailed  with 
the  45th  Regiment  for  Newbern,  N.  C.,  where  General  Burn- 
side  was  then  in  command.  Before  he  sailed  his  mother 
took  opportunity  for  that  converse  with  him  which  had 
hitherto  been  denied  her.  Of  this  she  made  a  memorandum, 
partly  for  her  own  satisfaction  and  partly  as  a  record  of  the 
family  life,  to  be  preserved  for  the  children :  — 

November,  1862.  Georgey  said  a  great  many  precious  things  to 
me  on  leaving  me,  which  are  a  very  great  comfort  to  me. 

I  told  him  I  thanked  him  for  having  always  been  so  good  and 
kind  a  son.  He  said,  "Not  a  tenth  part  so  good  as  I  should  have 
been." 


424  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1862 

I  said  to  him  I  felt  he  would  sometimes  long  for  an  oppor- 
tunity to  go  to  church.  He  said,  "I  have  begun  to  long  for  that 
already."  I  said,  "We  will  always  pray  for  each  other."  He 
said,  "Yes,  I  want  you  to  be  sure  and  pray  for  me." 

I  said  to  him  I  wished  if  ever  he  found  he  was  near  to  dying, 
he  would  try  to  send  me  some  message,  telling  me  where  his  trust 
was.  He  said,  "You  might  be  just  as  sure  about  that  if  I  could 
not.  I  want  you  to  feel  perfectly  at  ease  about  me  if  anything 
should  happen  to  me;  I  should  feel  so  myself."  I  said  I 
should  if  I  could  be  sure  where  his  trust  would  be.  He  assured 
me  it  would  be  in  Christ  altogether;  it  could  not  be  anywhere 
else. 

I  said  to  him  how  much  he  had  lessened  the  agony  of  going 
away  by  his  having  become  a  Christian.  He  said,  "I  never 
would  have  gone  away  without  religion." 

These  are  some  of  the  things  he  said,  and  they  are  everything 
to  me.  His  whole  manner  was  so  beautiful  and  pleasant  and 
kind  and  calm,  it  was  very  comforting  to  me. 

God  bless  and  keep  the  dear  child,  and  bring  him  back  to  us 
in  safety. 

The  last  Sunday  evening  he  was  with  us  he  asked  for  "the 
hymns  "  we  are  in  the  habit  of  repeating,  and  for  "  the  Everlasting 
Memorial, "  which  he  always  repeated  to  me,  and  then  asked  me 
to  give  it  to  him.  What  a  change !  God  be  thanked. 

MOTHER. 

In  October  Mr.  Brooks  went  to  New  York  in  order  to  see 
for  the  first  time  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  assembled 
in  General  Convention.  His  impressions  were  unfavorable, 
for  he  was  at  this  moment  meditating  a  great  purpose  dawn- 
ing slowly  within  his  soul,  —  that  it  was  the  duty  of  the 
church  and  of  a  Christian  minister  to  sustain,  by  sympathy, 
by  act,  and  spoken  word,  the  government  of  the  country 
struggling  in  mortal  throes.  But  on  these  points  the  sym- 
pathies of  the  bishops,  clergy,  and  lay  delegates  of  the 
Episcopal  Church  were  greatly  divided.  The  Bishop  of 
Michigan,  in  his  opening  sermon,  had  declared  that  the  in- 
troduction of  politics  into  a  religious  synod  would  be  "high 
treason  against  God." 

Resolutions  offered  declaring  the  sympathy  of  the  church 
with  the  government  were  tabled.  The  alleged  reason, 
whether  it  were  the  dominating  sentiment  or  not,  for  refusing 


.  26]  THE  CIVIL  WAR  425 

to  act  was  that  the  church  was  a  purely  religious  organiza- 
tion, and  in  that  capacity  knew  nothing  of  the  State  or  its 
concerns.  There  was  also  a  feeling  that  if  the  Convention 
refrained  from  any  action,  the  reconciliation  would  be  easier 
with  their  Southern  brethren  when  the  war  should  be  over. 
It  may  be  said  in  explanation  of  this  attitude  of  the  Epis- 
copal Church  that  its  membership  was,  to  a  large  extent,  in 
the  Democratic  party,  with  whom  the  question  of  state  rights 
was  the  chief  political  issue  involved  in  the  war.  There 
were  many  who  conscientiously  held  that  any  State  had  a 
right  to  secede  from  the  Union,  and  that  the  action  of  the 
government  in  attempting  to  restrain  such  a  step  was  un- 
constitutional. The  Episcopal  Church  during  the  war,  and 
for  some  years  preceding,  had  become  a  house  of  refuge  for 
those  who  disliked  political  preaching,  such  as  began  to  be 
heard  in  the  churches  of  Puritan  descent.  With  this  feeling 
was  associated  another  tendency,  inherited  from  the  Church 
of  England,  an  unwillingness  to  follow  what  seemed  like 
doctrinaire  methods,  or  the  advocacy  of  abstract  truths  which 
justified  extreme  conclusions  if  they  could  be  logically  de- 
duced from  ideal  principles.  England  had  got  rid  of  slavery 
within  her  dominions  by  a  commercial  transaction,  —  the 
payment  of  the  slaveholders  for  their  property.  To  this 
result  she  had  been  moved  by  the  influence  in  Parliament  of 
great  reformers,  like  Clarkson  and  Wilberforce,  who  had  de- 
nounced human  slavery  as  a  wrong  to  humanity.  In  freeing 
the  slaves  by  purchasing  them  she  seemed  to  admit  the  right 
to  hold  men  in  slavery,  and  treated  them  as  property,  but 
she  had  also  in  a  peculiarly  English  way  extinguished  the 
evil  and  wiped  out  its  disgrace  from  her  domain. 

But  all  this  was  impossible  in  America,  where  the  question 
had  assumed  a  different  form.  Commercial  interests  on  a 
large  scale  were  involved  in  the  issue  of  human  slavery. 
"What  at  one  time,  when  the  Constitution  was  adopted,  seemed 
like  an  evil  which  would  soon  disappear  by  peaceful  means 
had  become  stronger  instead  of  weaker.  The  agitation  in 
the  North  for  the  abolition  of  slavery  had  made  the  South 
more  determined  in  its  adherence  to  the  peculiar  institution, 


426  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

leading  its  defenders  to  maintain  that  it  had  the  sanction  of 
the  Bible.  The  conflict  had  therefore  become  inevitable,  and 
it  was  alike  inevitable  that  sympathies  should  be  divided. 
For  a  time  it  seemed  doubtful  which  way  the  General  Con- 
vention representing  the  Episcopal  Church  would  move.  As 
the  days  went  on,  the  party  which  stood  for  sympathy  with 
the  government  grew  stronger  and  bolder.  The  politics 
which  had  been  so  deprecated  had  had  their  influence  upon 
the  delegates.  The  time  was  drawing  near  for  the  annual 
elections,  and  the  Hon.  Horatio  Seymour,  candidate  for  the 
governorship  in  New  York,  was  a  member  of  the  lower  house. 
It  would  damage  the  Democratic  party  and  its  candidates  in 
New  York  and  elsewhere  if  the  Episcopal  Church  should 
refuse  to  speak,  for  such  refusal  would  be  interpreted  as 
sympathy  with  the  rebellion.  Resolutions  at  last  were  passed, 
very  moderate  in  tone,  almost  colorless,  but  they  answered 
the  purpose.  In  the  House  of  Bishops,  despite  its  outward 
decorum,  there  was  more  aggressive  activity  as  well  as  a 
clearer  conception  of  the  situation  than  in  the  lower  house. 
It  had  fallen  to  the  lot  of  Bishop  Hopkins  of  Vermont,  as  the 
presiding  bishop,  to  draft  the  Pastoral  Letter,  wherein  the 
bishops,  according  to  custom,  address  the  church  at  large. 
After  he  had  read  to  the  bishops  the  letter  he  had  prepared, 
in  which  the  vital  issues  of  the  hour  were  studiously  waived, 
Bishop  Mi- 1  lvalue  of  Ohio  arose  and  presented  another  let- 
ter, which  was  offered  as  a  substitute,  and  accepted  by  the 
bishops,  committing  the  Episcopal  Church  to  sympathy  with 
the  government  in  the  prosecution  of  the  war.  Bishop 
Mcllvaine  deserves  to  be  remembered  in  this  connection.  He 
had  been  one  of  the  three  commissioners  sent  to  England  for 
the  purpose  of  explaining  the  situation,  and  conciliating 
English  sentiment  in  high  circles  toward  the  North.  The 
other  members  of  the  commission  were  the  late  Henry  Ward 
Beecher,  who  could  speak  to  the  English  nonconformists, 
and  Archbishop  Hughes  of  New  York  (Roman  Catholic),  who 
could  reach  his  own  communion.  No  better  man  could  have 
been  chosen  than  Bishop  Mcllvaine  for  reaching  the  throne, 
the  English  nobility,  and  the  Episcopate  of  the  Church  of 


JET.  26]  THE  CIVIL  WAR  427 

England.  But  Bishop  Hopkins  was  not  a  man  to  submit 
quietly  under  this  condemnation  of  his  attitude.  He  pub- 
lished a  protest  against  the  Pastoral  Letter  of  the  House  of 
Bishops,  which  was  sent  broadcast  through  the  country.  All 
this  was  at  a  moment  when  the  depression  throughout  the 
country  in  consequence  of  Northern  defeats  was  at  its  lowest, 
when  to  many  the  prospect  seemed  almost  hopeless.  Of  this 
and  other  things  Mr.  Brooks  speaks  in  the  following  letter  to 
Rev.  George  A.  Strong:  — 

PHILADELPHIA,  Wednesday,  October  15, 1862. 

MY  DEAR  GEORGE,  —  By  some  strange  mistake,  I  am  up  an 
hour  before  my  time  this  morning.  I  know  I  saw  it  was  almost 
eight  by  my  watch,  and  now  that  I  am  up  and  dressed,  behold,  it 
is  only  a  little  after  seven.  You  must  have  the  benefit  (  ?)  of  this 
unpleasant  occurrence. 

I  reiterate  the  sentiment  of  my  last  letter.  How  hard  it  is  to 
get  to  work  again  after  the  "Hills."  Can  you  get  up  any  interest 
in  your  parish  when  all  the  time  you  are  wishing  yourself  so  many 
miles  away?  Let 's  go  give  our  parishes  to  the  winds,  and  preach 
to  Bears  and  Wildcats  and  Willises  and  Calhaines  up  at  Gorham 
and  the  Glen. 

I  went  on  to  New  York  last  week.  You  didn't.  Perhaps 
you  're  none  the  worse  for  it,  for  the  sight  of  that  Convention 
wasn't  calculated  to  increase  respect  for  our  Mother  the  Church. 
It  was  n't  very  interesting  to  see  those  old  gentlemen  putting 
their  heads  together  to  make  some  resolutions  that  would  please 
the  Union  people  and  not  hurt  the  feelings  of  the  dear  rebels.  It 
is  a  miserable  business,  and  they  won't  satisfy  either  side.  I  had 
a  pleasant  time  enough,  staying  at  Dr.  Vinton's.  I  saw  lots 
of  old  seminary  faces,  Tyng,  and  Homans,  and  Jones,  and  Mar- 
shall. .  .  . 

Charles  (Richards)  and  I  dined  yesterday,  according  to  our 
Tuesday  custom,  at  Cooper's.  He  (Charles)  seemed  well  and 
cheerful;  much  more  so  he  is  for  this  summer's  trip.  He  and  I 
exchanged  last  Sunday.  How  I  wish  I  had  you  within  exchan- 
ging distance ! 

Do  you  know,  we  started  the  idea  last  night,  and  almost  talked 
ourselves  into  it,  that  we  four  (you  and  Charles  and  Cooper  and 
I)  should  all  pull  up  stakes  in  the  East,  and  go  to  California,  and 
evangelize  the  country  there.  What  do  you  think  of  it  ?  Will 
you  go  ?  It  is  more  than  a  fancy  with  some  of  us.  To  me  it  has 
some  very  great  attractions. 


428  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

PHILADELPHIA,  Saturday,  October  24,  1862. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  I  don't  quite  like  your  last  letter,  it  's  too 
blue.  I  own  tliat  we  are  in  the  darkest  moment  of  the  war  and 
that  our  elections  and  some  others  do  look  wretchedly,  but  is  n't 
our  cause  just  as  good  as  it  ever  was,  and  does  n't  it  seem  as  if 
all  through  the  war  there  had  been  a  design  of  Providence  to  put 
off  the  settlement  so  that  when  it  did  come  it  might  be  thorough  ? 
Certainly  if  we  had  conquered  at  the  first  Bull  Run,  we  should 
have  been  only  too  likely  to  have  put  things  back  on  essentially 
the  old  basis,  on  some  Crittenden  compromise  or  something  of 
that  kind,  and  in  a  few  years  had  the  whole  work  to  do  over. 
We  hope  for  better  things  than  that.  I  agree  with  you  perfectly 
about  the  Convention.  Its  shilly-shallying  was  disgraceful.  It 
was  ludicrous,  if  not  so  sad,  to  see  those  old  gentlemen  sitting 
there  for  fourteen  days,  trying  to  make  out  whether  there  was  a 
war  going  on  or  not,  and  whether  if  there  was  it  would  be  safe 
for  them  to  say  so.  However  they  may  represent  the  learning  of 
the  church,  they  certainly  don't  represent  its  spirit.  Some  few 
men,  however,  stood  out  well,  Vinton  and  Goodwin  and  Clark- 
son,  Randall  and  others,  and  the  House  of  Bishops  has  put  out  a 
capital  letter,  written  by  Bishop  Mcllvaine.  I  am  going  to  read 
it  to  my  people  to-morrow  morning.  .  .  .  No,  don't  give  up  the 
old  church  yet.  She  's  got  a  thick  crust  of  old-fogyism,  but 
she  's  all  right  at  the  core,  and  I  hope  will  show  it  yet. 

PHILADELPHIA,  October  23,  1862. 

DEAR  FKED,  — The  two  provocations  I  have  had  from  you 
lately,  the  letter  and  the  Catalogue,  certainly  deserve  some 
acknowledgment.  I  am  much  obliged  for  both.  I  am  sorry, 
though,  to  hear  you  write  so  blue  about  your  Senior  year,  and  the 
country,  and  the  war,  and  everything  in  general.  As  to  your 
Senior  year,  that  certainly  is  going  all  right.  At  any  rate,  it  is 
going  fast  enough  if  that  is  all  you  want.  One  quarter  of  it  is 
gone  already.  Class  Day  will  be  here  before  you  think  of  it. 
As  to  the  country  and  the  war,  things  certainly  are  at  their  black- 
est now,  a  great  deal  blacker  than  when  we  ran  from  Bull  Run. 
Because  then  we  all  meant  to  be  up  again  and  do  it.  Now  we 
are  beginning  to  ask  whether  we  shall,  or  not.  With  such  a 
chance  for  work  and  every  day  now  worth  a  million  to  the  coun- 
try, how  we  are  halting  and  waiting  and  letting  another  of  these 
terrible  winters  come  over  us !  When  will  it  end  ?  But  I  am 
getting  about  as  blue  as  you  were.  I  feel  just  as  yon  do  about 
George.  I  feel  the  same  respect  for  the  character  he  is  show- 
ing, the  same  joy  in  this  last  crowning  step  that  he  has  taken. 


JET.  26]  THE  CIVIL  WAR  429 

May  God  bless  and  keep  him,   and  bring  him  safe  back  to  us 
again. 

How  about  the  new  President  at  Cambridge?  I  hope  the  old 
place  will  prosper  under  him.  How  do  you  like  him  ?  I  see  that 
our  first  scholar,  Barlow,  has  been  made  a  brigadier-general.  He 
is  a  very  smart  fellow.  No  more  now.  Keep  up  your  spirits  as 
well  as  you  can.  Let  us  be  trustful  and  hopeful. 

The  reference  in  the  letter  to  the  Rev.  George  A.  Strong 
about  going  to  California  as  a  more  desirable  place  of  work 
was  no  mere  passing  idea,  leaving  his  mind  as  it  had  entered 
it.  It  shows  that  he  was  not  entirely  satisfied  with  his  posi- 
tion. There  was  in  him  something  of  an  heroic  purpose,  a 
desire  to  do  the  work  of  an  apostle  in  laying  new  foundations. 
For  many  years  he  continued  to  feel  that  some  such  work 
was  higher  than  the  work  he  was  doing.  Further  evidence 
of  this  feeling  of  uneasiness  is  given  in  this  extract  from 
a  letter  to  his  brother  William,  written  November  8,  1862 : 
"It  seems  almost  wrong  to  be  going  on  with  parish  work 
here  when  there  is  so  much  of  a  more  stirring  kind  going  on 
everywhere,  but  I  have  not  succeeded  in  getting  a  place  as 
chaplain,  and  with  this  parish  on  my  hands  do  not  think  I 
have  any  right  to  give  up  the  ministry  and  go  into  the 
ranks."  His  only  way  of  contributing  to  the  war  was  by 
committing  the  pulpit  to  its  support. 

Thanksgiving  Day  of  this  year  was  a  memorable  one  be- 
cause of  his  resolution  to  speak  his  mind  fully  on  the  subject 
of  slavery,  despite  the  conservatism  of  the  General  Conven- 
tion, —  to  commit  himself  and  his  congregation  so  far  as  it 
was  in  his  power  to  the  support  of  the  nation.  His  text  was 
Zechariah  xiv.  6,  7 :  "  And  it  shall  come  to  pass  in  that  day, 
that  the  light  shall  not  be  with  brightness  and  with  gloom : 
but  it  shall  be  one  day  which  is  known  unto  the  Lord;  not 
day,  and  not  night :  but  it  shall  come  to  pass,  that  at  evening 
time  there  shall  be  light."  Of  this  sermon  he  speaks  in  his 
letters : — 

PHILADELPHIA,  November  21, 1862. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  ...  I  believe  in  the  removal  of  McClel- 
lan  because,  much  as  he  has  done  for  us,  he  seemed  to  be  incapable 


430  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

of  doing  the  last  great  thing,  patting  out  the  rebellion  by  an  ear- 
nest, vigorous  campaign,  and,  much  as  I  like  him,  I  think  no  man 
ought  to  be  allowed  to  stand  between  us  and  peace  by  victory, 
which  is  our  great  object  now.  There  was  a  capital  article  in 
last  week's  "Independent  "  called  "The  Three  Periods,"  which  I 
wish  you  would  get  and  read.  I  am  just  beginning  to  think  about 
a  Thanksgiving  sermon.  It  is  a  hard  thing  to  write  this  year. 
Not  that  there  are  not  enough  things  to  be  thankful  for,  but  they 
are  so  different  from  the  usual,  and  lie  so  out  of  the  usual  range 
of  observation,  that  it  is  difficult  to  put  them  in  a  shape  that  will 
bring  them  home  to  people.  My  text  is  going  to  be  from  Zeclia- 
riah  xiv.  6,  7. 

Have  yon  read  Cairnes  on  "The  Slave  Power  "  ?  It  seems  to 
me  a  most  masterly  and  exhaustive  treatment  of  the  subject. 

Then  there  is  another  book  (now  I  am  talking  of  Books)  which 
I  have  been  intensely  interested  in,  and  which  I  know  you  would 
like.  It  is  "Westcott's  Introduction  to  The  Study  of  the  Gos- 
pels, "  published  by  Gould  &  Lincoln.  Get  it  and  read  it. 

Do  you  remember  the  Rev.  ,  a  second  advent  minister 

who  held  forth  from  your  pulpit  a  year  or  two  ago  ?  He  is  here 
now,  and  came  to  me  a  day  or  two  ago  with  a  very  earnest  appeal 
for  the  use  of  my  church  to  preach  his  peculiar  views.  I  found  it 
hard  work  to  refuse  him,  he  was  so  terribly  in  earnest  about  the 
importance  of  what  he  had  to  say,  but  I  did.  I  did  n't  want  my 
congregation  stirred  up  with  a  set  of  doctrines  in  whose  reliability 
and  practicalness  I  have  no  faith. 

I  was  never  so  busy  or  so  full  of  enjoyment  in  my  work.  My 
church  is  going  nobly.  Congregations  good,  especially  Wednesday 
evenings,  when  our  lecture  room  is  crammed  and  we  have  most 
delightful  meetings,  at  least  to  me.  How  the  people  like  them  I 
don't  know,  except  from  their  coming  in  shoals. 

Friday,  December  5,  1862. 

We  had  an  anti-slavery  sermon  at  Holy  Trinity  on  Thanks- 
giving which  does  n't  seem  to  have  done  any  special  harm.  The 
church  was  very  full,  and  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  alluding  in 

praise  to  the  Bishops'  letter  before  that  old  rebel,  ,  who  was 

present.  What  do  you  think  of  the  President's  message  ?  It 's 
badly  put  together,  but  a  very  plain,  straightforward,  understand- 
able document,  it  seems  to  me.  If  all  our  government  was  as  true 
as  he  is,  we  should  see  different  success,  but  with  Washington 
full  of  corruption  and  treachery  no  wonder  if  it  takes  us  two  or 
three  times  as  long,  and  costs  us  two  or  three  times  as  much,  as 
it  ought  to. 


AT.  26]  THE  CIVIL  WAR  431 

A  greater  tenderness  and  outflow  of  the  ^affections  accom- 
panied the  expansion  of  soul  and  intellect,  as  he  was  now 
assuming  the  burden  of  a  prophet  and  reformer.  Henceforth 
he  was  to  be  identified  with  the  war  for  freedom  and  national 
unity  as  a  leader  of  the  people,  to  whom  they  would  look  as 
to  a  tower  of  strength.  And  yet  it  was  a  characteristic  of 
him  at  this  time,  as  throughout  his  life,  that  he  did  not  allow 
himself  to  be  carried  away  by  any  one  issue  to  the  neglect 
of  other  duties  or  relationships.  He  did  not  lose  his  self- 
possession  or  allow  his  individuality  to  be  absorbed  in  the 
special  advocacy  of  the  great  cause  which  lay  close  to  his 
heart.  Men  are  apt  to  lose  their  personal  attractiveness 
when  they  become  reformers,  identifying  themselves  so  com- 
pletely with  their  burden  that  they  cease  to  be  interesting 
because  they  lose  their  interest  in  other  things.  He  still 
maintained  his  interest  in  every  phase  of  life,  preaching  from 
Sunday  to  Sunday,  as  if  there  were  no  mortal  conflict  wag- 
ing; brooding  over  religious  and  theological  questions,  as  the 
main  staples  of  human  existence;  alive  to  all  social  duties 
and  living  for  his  friends,  as  though  friendship  were  the  only 
thing  that  made  life  worth  the  living.  More  particularly  did 
his  heart  go  forth  to  the  members  of  his  own  family,  to  his 
brother  in  his  distant  camp  in  North  Carolina,  to  his  mother 
as  she  struggled  bravely  with  the  sorrows  of  parting  with  her 
son.  The  force  of  blood  relationship  took  stronger  hold  of 
his  imagination ;  there  was  to  be  found  in  it  a  depth,  a  sense 
of  rest  and  peace  and  of  consolation,  to  which  he  reverted 
with  profound  satisfaction. 

Friday,  November  7,  1862. 

DEAR  GEORGE,  —  So  you  are  off.  I  have  just  seen  in  the 
papers  an  account  of  your  departure,  and  though  it  is  your  week 
to  write,  will  write  a  welcome  to  reach  you  at  Newbern.  I  wish 
you  could  have  come  through  here,  for  to  think  of  you  on  the 
"billowy"  such  a  day  as  this  isn't  pleasant.  I  can  only  trust 
that  it  isn't  very  uncomfortable,  and  that  your  voyage  will  not  be 
a  long  one.  How  strange  it  seems  for  two  of  us  to  be  in  corre- 
spondence at  such  queer  places.  It  did  n't  look  much  like  it  when 
we  used  to  be  growing  up  so  quietly  in  Chauncy  Street.  If  your 
experience  is  like  mine  you  will  find  yourself  wondering  about 


432  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

your  own  identity  sometimes ;  wondering  whether  you  are  your- 
self or  whether  you  aren't  somebody  else.  The  best  way  when 
you  get  into  such  a  condition  is  to  go  to  work  and  reassure  your- 
self by  writing  a  long  letter  to  some  member  of  the  family  (me, 
for  instance),  and  so  get  yourself  back  where  you  ought  to  be  as 
one  of  the  Brooks  Boys. 

It  looks  now  as  if  there  were  work  cut  out  for  you  to  do  on  your 
arrival  in  North  Carolina.  The  papers  this  very  morning  tell  of 
an  expedition  from  Newbern  of  12,000  men,  probably  to  Golds- 
boro.  I  hope  something  will  come  of  it  all.  McClellan  seems 
to  be  pushing  on  slowly  but  certainly  in  Virginia,  and  altogether, 
in  spite  of  the  elections,  things  look  better. 

I  have  just  heard  from  Father,  but  with  no  special  news.     He 
gives  me  an  account  of  your  last  furlough  at  home,  and  says  that 
although  Mother  feels  your  going  terribly,  yet  she  bears  it  nobly. 
.   .   .  Good-by,  my  dear  fellow.     May  God  bless  and  keep  you. 
Your  affectionate  brother,  PHILLIPS. 

PHILADELPHIA,  Thanksgiving  Day,  November  27,  1862. 

DEAR  GEORGE,  —  You  have  n't  forgotten  that  this  is  Thanks- 
giving Day,  I  am  sure,  and  are  idealizing  your  camp  fare  into 
turkey  and  cranberry  sauce  down  on  the  banks  of  the  Trent. 
How  strange  it  is  to  think  of  you  over  there  in  the  desolation  of 
North  Carolina.  Dr.  Kane  used  to  say  that  there  were  three  per- 
fectly forlorn  places  in  the  world,  —  Greenland  and  Jersey  and 
North  Carolina.  You  have  got  into  one  of  them,  but  I  rejoice 
to  see  how  bravely  you  are  making  the  best  of  it.  Father  sent 
me  on  your  journal,  and  I  enjoyed  every  word  of  it,  and  quite 
envied  you  your  voyage.  I  had  full  accounts  from  home  of  your 
fearful  perils  down  in  the  harbor,  and  threw  up  my  hat  (figura- 
tively) in  sympathy  when  I  heard  you  were  fairly  off. 

Of  course  your  eyes  are  all  where  ours  are,  — on  Burns ide. 
What  a  job  he  has  in  hand.  Everybody  has  great  faith  in  him, 
though  Philadelphia  is  sore  about  the  removal  of  her  pet  son, 
McClellan.  Things  certainly  look  more  encouraging  and  hope- 
ful; and  next  Thanksgiving  Day  I  trust  we  may  be  all  safe  at 
home,  rejoicing  in  victorious  peace. 

Things  at  home  seem  to  be  going  on  pretty  much  their  usual 
course.  I  had  a  long  letter  from  Mother  the  other  day.  They 
all  miss  you  terribly  there.  My  own  impression,  strengthened 
every  day  since  I  first  left  the  paternal  roof,  is  that  we  have  one 
of  the  happiest  homes  the  world  can  show.  Don't  you  begin  to 
think  so? 

I  shall  think  ever  so  much  of  you  on  Sundays ;  glad  you  have 


MT.  26]  THE  CIVIL  WAR  433 

got  BO  capital  a  chaplain.  I  hope  his  work  will  be  much  blessed. 
Remember,  too,  won't  you,  that  there  is  work  for  every  Christian 
in  the  Regiment  to  do. 

Now  I  must  stop  and  be  off  to  church  to  preach  my  Thanks- 
giving sermon.     I  have  made  it  as  hopeful  as  I  can,  and  surely 
there  is  enough  to  give  thanks  for  in  such  times  as  these.   .   .   . 
Good-by.     God  bless  you.  PHILL. 

His  brother  Frederick  was  contemplating  the  ministry  as 
his  profession,  and  writes  for  information  on  that  very  sensi- 
tive subject  of  theological  seminaries.  Mr.  Brooks  was  still 
alive  to  the  defects  from  which  he  had  himself  suffered  in 
his  theological  training.  But  he  was  now  interested  in  the 
new  Divinity  School  at  Philadelphia  as  one  of  its  overseers, 
where  he  hoped  that  something  more  adequate  for  the  needs 
of  theological  students  would  be  provided.  He  also  thought 
it  a  mistake  to  plant  these  schools  in  the  country,  where  men 
were  isolated  from  life.  On  these  and  other  grounds  he 
recommended  his  brother  to  come  to  Philadelphia. 

November  24,  1862. 

DEAR  FRED,  — .  .  .  As  to  seminaries.  Do  you  ask  with 
reference  to  yourself  at  all?  For  you,  if  you  should  decide  to 
turn  your  studies  toward  the  church  (and  how  it  would  delight 
me!),  I  should  not  hear  of  any  plan  but  one  —  viz.,  to  come  on 
and  chum  with  me  and  study  at  the  Philadelphia  seminary. 
Nothing  else  would  I  think  of  for  a  moment.  It  would  make  my 
very  lonely  life  here  happy,  and  give  a  new  color  to  a  great  many 
things  that  are  pretty  desolate  sometimes.  So  that  is  settled. 
For  anybody  else,  I  should  still  say,  Philadelphia.  First,  it  is  a 
city,  and  Gambier  is  in  the  woods.  Secondly,  it  is  new  and  fresh, 
and  though  as  yet  very  inchoate  (I  mean  the  seminary  of  course), 
yet  it  promises  well.  I  will  send  you  one  of  its  circulars.  Our 
present  corps  of  professors  is  only  temporary,  and  it  is  the  firm 
resolve  of  the  overseers  to  fill  the  place  as  soon  as  it  is  in  active 
operation  with  young  live  active  men.  Gambier  is  a  good  school, 
I  believe,  but  it  has  all  the  disadvantages,  as  well  as  the  advan- 
tages, of  shutting  young  men  engaged  in  theological  study  up  to 
their  own  exclusive  society.  That  state  of  things  I  saw  on  the 
whole  at  Alexandria  to  be  narrowing  and  deadening  in  its  influ- 
ence. I  ought  to  warn  any  young  man  coming  from  Cambridge 
that  he  must  be  prepared  to  find  either  seminary  in  its  scholastic 
tone  very  inferior  to  his  Alma  Mater.  I  am  sorry  it  is  so.  A 


434  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

student  will  get  in  either  place  little  more  than  a  skeleton  of 
study  in  his  classroom,  and  will  have  to  flesh  it  out  by  his  own 
enterprise.  He  would  find  hut  little  stimulus  in  the  rivalry  and 
emulations  of  the  men  with  whom  he  would  be  thrown.  I  sup- 
pose it  is  so  with  all  the  seminaries  of  all  our  churches. 

All  this  about  seminaries,  not  a  word  to-day  of  politics  or  war. 
Good-by.     God  bless  you.  PHILL. 

PHILADELPHIA,  Monday,  December  15, 1862. 

DEAR  FRED,  —  I  am  shocked  to  see  the  date  of  your  letter  is 
two  weeks  ago  to-morrow.  These  weeks  go  so  terribly  fast  that 
to  keep  pace  with  them  is  wholly  out  of  the  question.  You  must 
make  me  one  big  excuse  out  of  the  constant  pressure  of  parish 
work,  and  let  it  cover  all  my  deficiencies.  Who  can  write  about 
anything  else  except  the  war  in  these  days  of  suspense?  Things 
look  more  promising,  I  think,  than  at  any  moment  since  the  war 
began.  At  any  rate,  we  do  seem  at  last  to  be  upon  the  very 
brink  of  a  decision,  and  in  spite  of  croaking  the  country  will  be 
ready  to  strike  the  last  great  blow  at  the  rebellion  with  the  Eman- 
cipation cudgel  on  the  first  of  the  new  year.  All  this  if  things 
go  right  at  the  Rappahannock.  .  .  . 

As  to  seminaries,  I  agree  with  you  fully  as  to  the  inadequate 
conception  of  its  nature  with  which  so  many  of  our  young  minis- 
ters rush  into  clerical  life.  Our  ministry  is  full  of  such  now,  and 
our  seminaries  are  getting  ready  to  contribute  lots  more.  The 
evil  is  partly  necessary.  No  man  can  wholly  estimate  a  work  so 
entirely  of  its  own  kind  till  he  has  tried  it.  But  all  this  only 
makes  it  the  more  necessary  that  we  should  have  the  right  men  as 
far  as  we  can.  Your  place  is  in  the  church.  I  say  it  with  as 
much  confidence  as  any  one  man  has  a  right  ever  to  use  in  speak- 
ing of  another's  duty.  And  if  your  place  of  labor  is  in  the 
church,  I  say  then  with  perfect  certainty  that  your  place  of  pre- 
paration is  here,  living  with  me  and  studying  in  our  school.  And 
what  a  joy  it  will  be  to  me  to  have  you,  how  it  will  light  up  my 
solitary  life,  I  cannot  say. 

Affectionately,  PHILL. 

The  year  1862  closed  with  a  deep  and  widespread  depres- 
sion among  the  people.  The  fall  campaign  had  been  un- 
favorable to  the  Union  arms.  The  loss  also  of  life  had  been 
enormous.  At  the  battle  of  the  Antietam,  September  7, 1862, 
where  the  Union  force  was  defeated,  22,000  men  had  per- 
ished, and  of  these,  12,000  belonged  to  the  Union  army. 


JET.  26]  THE  CIVIL  WAR  435 

Burnside  had  been  defeated  near  Fredericksburg  on  the  Rap- 
pahannock,  December  13,  1862,  with  a  loss  of  12,000,  and 
a  Confederate  loss  of  4000.  Again,  in  Eastern  Tennessee,  at 
the  battle  of  Murfreesboro,  December  31,  1862,  where  the 
Union  army  under  the  command  of  Thomas  and  Sheridan  at 
least  held  its  own  and  repelled  the  assault  of  the  Confeder- 
ates, out  of  80,000  men  engaged,  23,000  was  the  number  of 
the  killed  and  wounded.  The  situation  was  appalling,  and 
as  yet  the  beginning  of  the  end  was  not  visible.  The  fall 
elections,  always  a  barometer  to  indicate  the  public  feeling, 
had  been  discouraging  to  the  Republican  party.  The  father 
of  Phillips  Brooks  wrote  to  him,  December  13,  1862,  under 
a  sense  of  depression  and  anxiety.  His  words  must  not  be 
taken  literally;  they  represent  the  desponding,  almost  de- 
spairing mood  of  the  hour :  — 

And  now  what  think  you  of  the  war?  That  evacuation  of 
Fredericksburg,  what  means  it  ?  We  feel  very  blue  here  indeed, 
I  assure  you  —  a  sad,  desponding  feeling.  If  Burnside  will  lay 
by  and  back  down  under  that  defeat,  he  is  a  different  man  from 
what  I  was  led  to  expect.  Where  are  we  ?  What  is  to  be  done  ? 
Massachusetts  has  lost  many  noble  men  in  this  battle,  —  Willard, 
Dehon,  Fuller,  and  I  know  not  how  many  more.  It  is  too  bad. 
With  all  this  slaughter  and  defeat  I  am  almost  in  favor  of  inter- 
vention from  abroad  or  compromise  at  home.  .  .  . 

I  have  just  heard  of  the  death  of  Samuel  Phillips,  as  pure  and 
conscientious  a  young  Christian  as  we  had  among  us.  He  was  at 
home  quite  recently,  from  having  been  at  Port  Royal  on  the  Educa- 
tional Commission.  He  returned  there  not  well,  and  died  of  a 
bilious  fever,  another  victim  of  the  war,  but  not  of  battle.  His 
brother  John  has  just  returned  from  South  America;  he  is  to  go 
into  the  war,  and  has  enlisted  in  the  cavalry  regiment:  two 
boys  that  have  sat  before  us  at  church  so  many  years  as  to  be 
one  of  us. 

Your  Mother  is  anxious  about  George.  He  has  endeared  him- 
self to  us  doubly  by  his  absence  and  the  character  he  has  shown 
since  he  has  been  in  his  new  position.  Pray  for  him,  my  dear 
son. 

On  the  last  day  of  the  year  Phillips  Brooks  wrote  to  his 
brother  George,  at  Newbern,  N.  C. :  — 


4j6  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1862 

Wednesday  afternoon,  December  81, 1862. 

DKAK  GEOROE,  —  I  hear  of  you  back  in  Newbern  again,  and 
thank  God  with  you  for  your  safety  and  His  care  over  you.  It 
haa  been  an  anxious  time  with  all  of  us  since  your  expedition 
started.  We  have  watched  the  papers  anxiously  and  heard  the 
reports  of  success  with  an  immense  relief.  I  have  not  written  be- 
fore because  I  supposed  of  course  your  address  was  changed,  and 
that  anything  sent  in  the  old  way  would  fail  to  reach  you.  .  .  . 

So  another  Christmas  has  gone  over.  I  don't  know  how  it 
went  with  you,  but  with  me  it  was  hardly  Christmas.  We  had 
our  service  in  the  forenoon;  then  I  went  down  to  my  friend  Mr. 
Cooper's  and  ate  a  pleasant  family  dinner,  and  came  home  and 
sat  before  my  fire  in  the  evening,  and  thought  of  you  and  all  the 
folks  at  home.  They  seem  to  have  had  a  very  quiet  time  of  it. 
I  have  had  a  batch  of  letters  from  them,  and  they  all  seem  to  be 
under  a  cloud.  It  has  n't  been  to  any  of  us  the  merry  holiday 
time  that  it  was  last  year,  and  yet  I  wonder  if  we  may  n't  all 
hope  that  we  are  all  better  for  what  we  have  been  through  since 
that  last  Christmas  time,  and  more  able  to  appreciate  and  under- 
stand the  full  meaning  of  what  we  celebrate,  —  the  birth  of  Christ 
into  this  world  that  needs  Him  so  much. 

Since  I  wrote  you  we  have  had  one  more  disappointment  in 
Virginia  with  that  terrible  loss  at  Fredericksburg  of  so  many 
noble  men.  But  there  are  things  to  hope  in  too.  Down  in  the 
Southwest  there  is  a  brighter  look,  and  if  the  winter's  work  can 
be  the  recovery  of  that  vast  region,  it  will  well  be  worth  while. 
To-morrow  we  shall  have  the  Emancipation  Proclamation,  and 
then  it  would  seem  as  if  every  soldier  in  our  armies  could  stand 
firmer  and  fight  and  endure  with  a  complete  trust  in  his  cause. 

I  presume  now  that  you  are  looking  forward  to  a  winter  in 
Newbern.  I  want  very  much  to  do  something  to  make  the  winter 
pleasanter  or  easier  for  you,  but  I  feel  so  ignorant  about  the 
needs  of  camp  life  that  I  should  probably  send  you  just  the  wrong 
thing.  Can't  yon  think  of  anything  which  I  could  send  you  for 
Christmas  which  you  could  find  useful?  books  or  clothes  or  com- 
forts of  any  kind,  or  money  ?  If  you  possibly  can,  I  should  thank 
you  and  be  happier.  Won't  you  try? 

A  Happy  New  Year  to  you  now,  my  dear  fellow,  and  God 
bless  and  keep  yon. 

Your  brother,  PH ILL. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

1863 

DEATH  OP  GEORGE  BROOKS.  PARISH  WORK.  CLERICAL 
SOCIETY.  THREATENED  INVASION  OP  PHILADELPHIA. 
SUMMER  IN  THE  WHITE  MOUNTAINS.  PROTEST  AGAINST 
BISHOP  HOPKINS'S  BIBLE  ARGUMENT  FOR  SLAVERY.  IN- 
TEREST IN  THE  FREEDMEN.  THANKSGIVING  SERMON. 

THE  Emancipation  Proclamation  issued  by  President  Lin- 
coln on  the  first  day  of  the  New  Year,  1863,  was  an  event  of 
the  highest  spiritual  importance  to  Phillips  Brooks.  As  he 
interpreted  its  meaning,  the  war  had  for  its  purpose  a  moral 
issue.  God  was  in  the  struggle.  In  the  tragic  scene  that 
was  enacting,  there  was  now  to  be  visible  evidence  afforded 
of  a  progressive  movement  in  human  affairs.  The  doctrine 
of  human  progress,  of  an  increasing  purpose  in  the  life  of 
humanity,  he  had  hitherto  gathered  from  the  records  of  his- 
tory. Now  it  was  to  be  made  visible  before  his  eyes.  A 
deeper  faith,  a  vaster  enthusiasm,  a  stronger  sense  of  the 
reality  of  spiritual  things,  the  concentration  of  the  will  on 
the  great  issue,  in  the  confidence  that  God's  will  was  thus 
subserved,  —  such  were  the  motives  that  now  entered  more 
deeply  into  his  soul.  He  was  taking  a  great  step  forward 
in  his  own  experience.  A  new  consecration  came  to  him, 
greater  power  and  authority  marked  his  utterances.  He  had 
no  longer  any  misgivings  about  the  ultimate  result  of  the 
protracted  struggle.  The  tone  of  despondency  disappears,  to 
give  way  to  an  inward  exultation.  The  failure  of  this  or 
that  leader,  disasters  and  defeats,  were  no  ground  for  depres- 
sion. He  had  completely  vanquished  the  lower  mood  in 
which  he  had  trusted  to  any  one  man  to  become  the  saviour 


43 8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1863 

of  the  couutry.  Thus  to  his  father  he  writes  on  the  15th  of 
January :  "  I  cannot  feel  as  blue  about  the  war  as  you  do. 
Nor  is  it  time  to  look  out  yet  for  the  effects  of  the  Emanci- 
pation Proclamation.  Military  success  is  the  first  thing  we 
want.  We  have  had  it  already  in  Tennessee,  and  we  shall 
see  it  yet  at  Vicksburg."  This  was  written  nearly  six 
months  before  General  Grant  won  his  victory  there.  When 
Burnside  was  removed  he  wrote,  "There  is  this  comfort  at 
least,  that  the  more  we  try  and  find  to  be  the  wrong  ones, 
the  nearer  we  must  be  coming  to  the  right  one  all  the  time." 
He  had  no  longer  any  illusions  about  McClellan.  "What 
did  you  think  of  Lincoln's  letter  to  McClellan  that  came  out 
in  the  court  martial  and  was  published  in  the  papers  of  this 
morning  [January  17]?  It  looks  as  though  Old  Abe  was  just 
as  good  a  general  as  the  young  Napoleon  after  all." 

Wednesday  morning,  January  7,  1863. 

Monday  I  had  to  be  on  hand  at  our  " Soldiers'  reading  room  " 
at  a  little  reception  to  General  McClellan.  I  saw  considerable  of 
the  general,  and  am  not  a  stronger  McClellan  man  for  having  seen 
him.  He  does  n't  look  like  a  great  man.  His  face  does  n't 
show,  either,  special  refinement.  He  is  pleasant  and  affable,  and 
the  soldiers  collected  to  greet  him  were  very  enthusiastic.  He 
looks  like  a  good,  sensible,  bright  engineer  and  not  much  more. 

He  was  now  to  be  called  into  another  experience,  which 
hitherto  had  been  far  away  from  him.  His  father  unex- 
pectedly appeared  in  Philadelphia  on  his  way  to  the  South, 
summoned  by  tidings  of  the  dangerous  illness  of  George 
Brooks.  But  even  before  the  father  had  started  on  his  sad 
journey  the  end  had  come.  The  telegram  that  his  brother 
had  died  of  typhoid  pneumonia  on  February  10  reached 
Phillips  on  the  16th,  and  he  started  at  once  for  home.  There 
in  the  darkened  house  they  waited  for  a  week  in  silence,  no 
word  reaching  them  from  the  father,  who  was  slowly  mak- 
ing the  journey  home  with  the  body  of  his  son.  With  these 
days  of  waiting  was  afterward  associated  the  lines  of  Tenny- 
son, the  prayer  for  the  ship  bearing  the  loved  remains :  — 

Sphere  all  yonr  lights  around,  above  ; 
Sleep,  gentle  heavens,  before  the  prow ; 


JET.  27]       THE  NATIONAL   CRISIS  439 

Sleep,  gentle  winds,  as  he  sleeps  now, 
My  friend,  the  brother  of  my  love. 

While  they  waited  at  home,  Phillips  Brooks  wrote  a  ser- 
mon on  the  text  (Luke  xxiv.  18),  "Art  thou  only  a  stranger 
in  Jerusalem,  and  hast  not  known  the  things  which  are  come 
to  pass  there  in  these  days?  "  There  came  also  a  letter  from 
the  chaplain  of  the  45th  Regiment,  who  had  ministered  to 
George  Brooks  in  his  illness,  giving  an  account  of  the  last 
days.  The  letter,  which  was  addressed  to  his  congregation 
and  read  before  them,  brought  comfort  and  consolation  to  the 
bereaved  family :  — 

NEWBEBN,  N.  C.,  February  12, 1863. 

MY  DEAR  PEOPLE,  —  There  are  few  scenes  on  earth  that  reveal 
more  visibly  the  glory  of  the  Divine  presence  and  the  power  of 
sustaining  grace  than  the  deathbed  of  a  Christian.  It  has  been 
my  privilege  to  watch  over  the  decline  and  the  departure  of  one 
of  God's  dear  ones  in  our  regiment  the  past  week.  George 
Brooks,  one  of  our  own  Boston  boys,  a  member  of  Company  A, 
recruited  under  Captain  Russell  Sturgis,  Jr.,  now  our  major,  was 
taken  ill  of  typhoid  fever  about  a  week  ago.  From  the  first  he 
expressed  his  entire  resignation  to  the  Divine  will.  He  enjoyed 
the  constant  presence  of  Jesus  at  his  side.  When  I  asked  him 
daily,  "  Is  your  Saviour  near  to  you  to-day  ?  "  the  look  upon  his 
face  had  a  radiant  answer  before  his  lips  could  speak.  All 
through  his  sickness  that  faithful  Presence  cheered  and  sustained 
him.  He  was  never  dejected,  he  never  murmured.  He  would 
say  but  little,  as  his  lungs  seemed  congested,  but  by  gasps  and 
whispers  one  day  he  told  me,  holding  my  face  down  close  to  his, 
so  that  he  could  make  me  hear  his  lowest  word,  —  he  told  me  that 
he  never  had  had  full  assurance  of  his  pardon  and  acceptance  till 
he  became  a  soldier.  He  said  that  in  the  battle  of  Kingston, 
under  that  terrible  fire  of  the  enemy,  his  Saviour  came  to  him  as 
never  before,  declared  His  presence,  revealed  His  love,  and  held 
his  soul  in  His  hands.  As  the  hour  of  death  drew  on,  he  seemed 
to  have  three  burdens  of  prayer.  The  first  was  quickly  disposed 
of.  He  prayed  aloud,  "Oh,  Lord,  keep  me,  hold  me  fast,  leave 
me  not,  let  me  not  go !  "  and  then  all  thoughts  of  himself  seemed 
to  be  at  an  end.  Shortly  after,  his  lips  moved  again  and  audibly, 
and  his  second  burden  was  laid  down  at  the  Divine  feet:  "My 
God,  spare  my  country !  oh,  save  my  dear  native  land !  "  For  a 
few  moments  silence  succeeded,  and  the  voice  of  prayer  was  heard 
once  more,  the  last  earthly  articulation  of  that  tongue,  though 


440  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1863 

his  consciousness  continued  till  his  last  breath,  some  fifteen  min- 
utes later.  This  last  burden  was  borne  up  on  the  old  familiar 
petition,  "Thy  kingdom  come,  thy  will  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is 
in  heaven."  His  own  soul,  his  country,  the  Israel  of  God,  these 
three  interests  he  thus  commended  in  his  last  utterances  to  the 
faithful  Promiser. 

How  could  a  Christian  life  close  more  appropriately  and  trium- 
phantly? He  was  a  fine,  manly  fellow,  his  eye  very  dark  and 
bright ;  a  swarthy  face,  with  a  brilliant  set  of  teeth  and  a  pleasant 
smile ;  a  pleasant  companion  and  an  agreeable  and  valued  friend. 
He  was,  as  you  would  infer,  a  brave  soldier,  and  in  the  battle- 
field suffered  no  tremor  to  disturb  nerve  or  spirit.  His  body  is 
to  be  embalmed  and  sent  home,  but  his  memory  is  already  em- 
balmed in  our  hearts,  and  will  be  fragrant  as  long  as  Christian 
patriotism  shall  be  honored  on  earth,  as  long  as  Christian  friend- 
ship shall  endure  in  heaven.  If  any  man  ever  doubted  the 
sufficiency  of  the  gospel  of  Christ  to  transform,  sustain,  and  ele- 
vate a  human  life,  and  help  it  meet  its  last  and  greatest  need,  let 
him  look  upon  such  a  scene,  and  his  skepticism  must  vanish  like 
mist  before  the  sun.  One's  faith  becomes  more  settled  and  im- 
movable after  such  an  exhibition  of  the  truth  and  tenderness  of 
Jesus. 

Let  your  prayers  hover  constantly  over  the  pillows  of  our  sick 
and  wounded.  The  touch  of  loved  fingers  is  far  away,  but  your 
intercessions  may  be  as  the  shadow  of  an  angel's  wing  to  faces 
growing  white  under  the  signature  of  death. 

Ever  and  constantly  yours,        A.  L.  STONE. 

These  brief  entries  in  the  diary  tell  the  remainder  of  the 
story:  — 

Friday,  February  27,  1863.  Father  arrived  at  six  A.  M.  with 
dear  George's  body.  A  sad  day;  making  arrangements  for  the 
removal  to  the  house.  It  was  brought  to  the  house  and  put  in 
the  front  parlor  in  the  afternoon  at  six  o'clock. 

Saturday,  February  28,  1863.  In  the  morning  making  ar- 
rangements for  the  funeral.  P.  M.  With  William  and  Fred  at 
Mount  Auburn  to  see  about  the  grave. 

Sunday,  March  1,  1863.  Second  Sunday  in  Lent.  Terrible 
storm  all  day.  At  home  till  afternoon.  Then  at  Public  Garden 
greenhouse  to  order  flowers. 

Monday,  March  2,  1863.  George's  funeral  at  eleven  o'clock. 
Services  at  St.  Paul's.  Bishop  Eastburn  officiated.  5.30  P.  M. 
started  by  Norwich  cars  for  New  York. 


AT.  27]        THE  NATIONAL   CRISIS  441 

On  reaching  Philadelphia  Phillips  Brooks  wrote  at  once  to 
his  mother.  In  this  letter  we  look  into  his  soul  at  a  moment 
when,  touched  by  sorrow,  the  veil  is  withdrawn,  revealing 
the  man  in  his  transparent  simplicity  and  entire  devotion. 
Extracts  from  other  letters  follow,  written  under  the  same 
inspiration.  It  was  an  event  at  this  time  in  the  spiritual 
history  of  the  family  when  Arthur,  at  the  age  of  seventeen, 
came  forward  for  confirmation.  It  seemed  like  the  voice  of 
George  from  the  open  heavens. 

Tuesday  afternoon,  March  3,  1863. 

MY  DEAREST  MOTHER,  —  I  am  back  here  again  and  trying  to 
collect  myself  to  go  to  work  again  to-morrow  morning.  Ever 
since  I  left  you  my  thoughts  have  been  with  you  all  at  home,  and 
I  feel  like  a  stranger  here  among  the  things  that  were  so  familiar 
only  two  weeks  ago.  These  two  weeks  seem  to  me  like  a  strange 
sort  of  dream,  and  it  is  hard  to  realize  that  such  a  change  has 
come  over  our  family  life  since  the  last  time  I  was  sitting  here 
at  my  desk.  And  yet  I  find  it  hard  to  be  sad  or  mournful  about 
it.  I  cannot  think  that  George  himself,  as  he  looks  at  us,  wishes 
us  to  be  sad  or  mournful.  I  have  been  looking  over  and  over 
again,  all  last  night  and  this  morning,  the  whole  life  that  we 
have  lived  with  him.  I  cannot  remember  one  moment  whose 
memory  is  painful  to  me.  I  cannot  recall  a  single  quarrel  that  I 
ever  had  with  him,  and  I  suppose  the  other  boys  would  say  the 
same.  I  cannot  bring  back  one  look  that  was  not  all  kindness,  or 
one  act  that  was  not  pure  and  good,  or  one  word  that  was  not 
bright  and  truthful.  I  envy  him  his  life  and  death.  I  would 
gladly  lie  down  and  die  to-night  if  I  could  look  back  on  such  a 
spotless  life  as  his,  and  find  my  faith  as  simple  and  secure  for  the 
future  as  his  was.  How  beautiful  his  religion  was.  He  has 
taught  me  for  one,  as  I  never  knew  before,  what  Jesus  meant 
when  he  told  of  "receiving  the  kingdom  of  God  as  a  little  child." 
Such  a  perfect  trust  as  his  I  know  is  in  the  power  of  any  of  us  to 
reach  as  he  reached  it,  and  yet  I  do  not  dare  to  expect  it  ever 
perfectly  for  myself,  but  am  determined  to  live  and  pray  and 
struggle  for  it,  and  shall  rejoice  if  I  can  have  a  seat  at  last  some- 
where in  sight  of  the  perfect  happiness  and  glory  which  he  is  in 
to-day  and  will  be  in  forever.  My  thoughts  of  home  will  always 
be  different  now.  I  shall  always  think  of  George  as  there  among 
you.  I  do  not  care  about  Mount  Auburn.  I  don't  care  ever  to 
go  there  again,  till  I  am  carried  as  he  was  yesterday.  I  want  to 
think  of  him  as  being  about  the  old  house  and  always  one  of  your 


442  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1863 

group,  making  it  happier  and  holier  by  his  memory  and  influence, 
just  as  he  always  made  it  beautiful  and  bright  when  he  was  in  the 
body.  And  I  want  to  feel  him  there  too,  helping  me  and  making 
me  fitter  for  every  duty  with  his  own  courage  and  cheerfulness 
and  blessed  faith. 

I  find  work  enough  waiting  for  me,  and  shall  go  about  it  happily, 
but  always  looking  for  the  time  when  it  will  be  all  done,  and  we 
shall  be  with  Christ  and  him. 

God  bless  you  alL 

PHILL. 

Saturday,  March  7,  1863. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  — ...  I  have  been  living  in  a  hurry  since  I 
got  back  here,  and  my  sermon  has  been  very  much  delayed  and 
not  finished  till  very  late.  It  has  come  rather  hard  to  buckle 
down  to  work  again,  and  I  am  scarcely  yet  fully  at  it.  The  re- 
collection of  those  days  at  home  is  with  me  always,  especially  that 
bast  Sunday,  two  weeks  ago.  I  have  been  looking  all  over  my  old 
papers  and  getting  together  all  the  papers  that  I  ever  received 
from  George.  He  always  wrote  so  simply  and  directly  that  they 
bring  back  wonderfully  the  times  in  which  he  wrote  them.  In 
Woodstock,  and  at  the  drugstore,  and  at  home,  and  later  in  the 
vessel  and  at  Newbern.  There  are  two  or  three  about  his  hopes 
of  getting  a  place  with  Powers  &  Weightman  here,  and  the  last 
thing  he  says  is  that  as  I  seem  not  to  have  despaired  he  will  keep 
on  hoping  and  trust  to  its  coming  to  something  one  of  these  days. 
Mr.  Powers  called  to  see  me  the  other  day;  he  was  much  inter- 
ested in  George,  and  told  me,  what  I  did  not  know  before,  that  he 
was  looking  out  for  him  for  the  charge  of  one  of  his  laboratories, 
but  finding  he  had  gone  into  the  war  concluded  to  wait  and  say 
nothing  about  it  and  have  a  place  for  him  when  the  war  was  over. 
His  overseer,  Dr.  Aur,  was  very  much  taken  with  George  when 
we  visited  the  Laboratory  together  three  years  ago  this  spring. 
I  see  little  chance  now  of  my  leaving  after  Lent.  I  have  had  my 
confirmation  put  off  till  the  1st  of  May.  In  June  I  am  asked 
to  deliver  an  address  at  the  Commencement  of  Kenyon  College  in 
Ohio,  and  may  go. 

PHILADELPHIA,  March  23,  1863. 

MY  DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  I  mail  you  herewith  a  copy  of  the 
West  Philadelphia  Hospital  paper  which  contains  Mr.  Stone's 
letter  about  George.  I  received  a  note  from  the  chaplain  asking 
my  consent  to  its  publication.  It  had  come  into  his  hands  by 
some  means  through  Dr.  Vaughan.  Although  I  would  not  have 


JET.  27]        THE  NATIONAL  CRISIS  443 

put  it  in  myself,  I  felt  that  I  had  no  right  to  refuse  consent,  and 
you  will  find  it  there.  It  will  do  good,  I  trust.  Tell  Mother  I 
have  had  the  dear  boy's  picture  framed,  and  there  it  stands  right 
in  front  of  the  table  where  I  sit  and  of  the  door  by  which  I  enter. 
It  hangs  across  the  southwest  corner  of  the  room;  between  two 
windows,  framed  in  black  walnut  and  gilt.  I  have  been  busier 
this  week  than  I  remember  for  a  great  while.  Next  week  is 
busier  still,  but  all  the  while  I  am  thinking  of  my  stay  at  home 
and  of  George  and  his  life  and  death.  .  .  . 

Easter  Monday,  April  6,  1863. 

I  know  how  glad  you  all  must  be  at  Arthur's  confirmation. 
The  fruit  of  George's  life  and  death,  which  has  begun  to  show 
itself  so  soon,  will  never  cease  to  be  seen.  .  .  . 

When  the  time  for  which  George  Brooks  had  enlisted  had 
expired,  and  his  comrades  returned  from  the  war,  there  came 
among  them  one  of  his  intimate  friends,  who  brought  to  the 
bereaved  parents  a  further  account  of  his  last  days,  and  still 
further  evidence  of  his  high  character  and  Christian  faith. 
His  father  writes  to  Phillips  (September  22,  1863):  — 

We  had  a  long  call  last  evening  from  George's  particular  friend 
and  bunkmate,  Thompson.  He  gave  us  a  great  deal  about  George ; 
much  that  was  new  and  much  that  no  one  else  could  give,  all 
about  his  early  sickness,  which  was  much  what  we  had  before. 

Of  his  strictly  religious  course  he  knew  all,  and  said  a  great 
deal ;  said  George  always  went  through  the  Prayer  Book  services 
on  Sunday,  and  got  him  to  accompany  him.  Kept  the  days  and 
read  the  lessons  appropriate.  His  reliance  on  his  Saviour  and  his 
trust  was  as  strong  as  one's  could  be.  He  knew  several  of  the 
hymns  George  was  in  the  habit  of  repeating,  and  particularly 
the  "Everlasting  Memorial."  Says  he  talked  a  great  deal  of  his 
brothers  and  very  often  got  out  all  the  photographs.  "Had  a 
good  deal  to  say  of  his  brother  Phillips. "  He  was  a  precious  boy, 
and  all  these  things  only  make  us  more  sensible  of  our  loss. 

The  work  outside  of  the  parish  now  becomes  so  extensive 
and  prominent  that  it  might  seem  as  if  the  duties  and  routine 
of  the  parish  minister  must  be  neglected.  But  the  parish 
occupied  the  foremost  place  then  as  always.  He  not  only 
worked  hard  himself,  but  stimulated  others  to  work.  Con- 
nected with  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  there  was  a 


444  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1863 

night  school,  held  in  the  chapel  on  week-day  evenings,  a 
mothers'  meeting,  and  an  outside  Bible  class,  taught  by 
ladies  connected  with  the  parish.  He  was  not  contented  to 
know  of  their  existence,  but  he  gave  to  them  his  personal 
presence  and  oversight.  He  continued  to  hold  a  weekly 
Bible  class  of  his  own  on  Saturday  evenings,  he  preached  or 
lectured  every  Wednesday  evening  in  the  church  to  large 
congregations,  and  he  always  gave  a  preparatory  lecture  for 
the  monthly  communion.  On  the  first  Sunday  of  each  month 
came  children's  church  in  the  afternoon.  To  the  anniver- 
sary of  the  Sunday-school  he  gave  special  attention.  Most 
carefully  did  he  prepare  his  candidates  for  confirmation,  not 
only  in  a  series  of  lectures,  but  making  it  an  obligation  to 
call  upon  each  candidate  for  personal  conversation.  Each 
week  he  tried  to  rescue  as  much  time  as  possible  for  reading 
and  study.  Each  week  as  a  rule  he  records  the  writing  of  a 
sermon.  For  this,  two  mornings  were  generally  appropriated, 
but  it  sometimes  happened  that  the  sermon  was  begun  and 
completed  on  Saturday.  So  great  was  the  demand  for  his 
services  that  rarely  a  Sunday  passed  that  he  did  not  preach 
three  times,  very  often  reading  the  service  twice  in  addition. 
If  he  found  himself  disengaged  on  Sunday  evenings,  he  went 
to  church  somewhere  a  third  time  for  the  purpose  of  hearing 
others  preach.  In  the  spring  of  this  year,  1863,  he  was 
busily  engaged  in  soliciting  subscriptions  for  the  purchase  of 
a  neighboring  church  in  order  to  make  it  a  chapel  for  Holy 
Trinity.  It  would  involve  an  extension  of  his  own  labors, 
but  he  proposed  to  call  an  assistant  minister  to  his  aid. 
Of  this  enterprise,  which  was  accomplished  before  Easter, 
he  writes,  "The  people  have  gone  into  it  heartily  as  they 
seem  to  do  into  every  good  work  they  get  hold  of."  To  those 
who  looked  on  he  appeared  to  carry  his  work  with  ease ;  there 
was  an  air  of  spontaneity  about  his  preaching,  as  though  it 
came  without  effort  or  anxiety.  He  contributed  to  this  im- 
pression by  giving  himself  so  freely  to  outside  calls  for  his 
services.  But  there  was  another  side  to  the  picture.  He  does 
not  complain,  but  he  admits  his  fatigue  :  — 


*r.  27]        THE  NATIONAL  CRISIS  445 

Saturday  evening,  May  2,  1863. 

It  'a  late  Saturday  night,  and  I  have  come  home  tired  from  my 
communicants'  meeting,  but  I  must  write  my  letter  before  I  go 
to  bed.  You  have  no  idea  how  fatiguing  this  work  of  speaking 
in  public  is.  It  does  n't  look  like  much  to  talk  for  half  an  hour 
to  a  room  full  of  people,  but  it  very  often  leaves  one  tired  out 
mind  and  body,  and  good  for  nothing.  Thursday  we  had  our  Fast 
Day  service.  Last  night  our  confirmation  class  met  for  its  lec- 
ture, and  to-night  our  communicants  had  their  meeting,  so  that 
we  have  had  services  for  three  successive  days,  and  I  feel  but 
little  ready  for  the  hard  work  of  to-morrow.  Still  it  is  a  plea- 
sant labor,  and  I  always  have  strength  given  me  somehow  when 
the  time  comes,  so  I"  have  given  up  worrying  about  the  future  and 
just  do  one  thing  at  a  time.  I  like  the  work  more  and  more 
every  day,  never  more  than  since  I  came  back  from  my  last  stolen 
visit  home,  and  everything  about  the  church  is  so  encouraging  that 
I  certainly  must  not  complain.  But  I  shall  be  glad  of  a  little 
vacation  this  summer.  I  am  depending  on  it,  and  now  it  is  only 
two  months  off.  No  news  to-night  from  Hooker.  Oh,  if  he 
might  only  be  successful  and  open  the  way  to  a  victorious  close  to 
this  fearful  war.  I  do  not  want  it  to  end  any  other  way,  but  I 
long  to  see  it  reach  its  great  result.  Our  churches  were  crowded 
on  Fast  Day,  and  the  people  seemed  to  be  in  the  spirit  of  the  day. 
I  did  not  preach  a  sermon,  but  just  said  a  few  words  extempore, 
a  brief  report  of  which  you  will  find  in  the  "Press  "  for  yester- 
day morning. 

The  service  in  his  church  on  Fast  Day  alluded  to  so  casu- 
ally was  marked  by  unusual  solemnity  and  impressiveness. 
"The  congregation,"  said  the  "Press,"  "listened  with  the  most 
profound  attention,  and  apparently  gave  a  sincere  and  hearty 
response  to  his  remarks."  The  burden  of  his  prophetic  soul 
was  the  sin  of  slavery.  "It  was  not  timely  or  proper  to 
preach,  but  would  it  not  be  a  mockery  before  God  to  say 
that  we  have  sinned,  we  have  broken  Thy  laws,  we  have  pol- 
luted Thy  Sabbath  and  received  in  vain  Thy  grace,  without 
alluding  to  the  greatest  sin  of  all,  —  the  blackest  stain  upon 
our  country  and  the  cause  of  all  the  ruin  and  bloodshed  and 
affliction  that  have  been  visited  on  our  land,  —  the  black  sin 
of  slavery  ?  Have  we  not  that  duty  to  perform,  to  pray  for 
the  removal  of  that  great  crime,  that  dark  spot  upon  our 
country's  history?  And  was  this  all?  Were  there  not  here 


446  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1863 

among  us  persons  whom  we  meet  daily  in  social  intercourse, 
who  give  not  even  a  faltering  support  to  the  administration  of 
the  laws,  who  are  not  using  the  means  that  God  has  given 
them  for  the  suppression  of  rebellion  and  treason ;  men  who 
deprecate  the  extermination  of  the  evil  that  has  caused  all 
our  troubles  ?  Was  it  not  as  much  our  duty  to  pray  for  the 
rebuke  of  those  traitors  in  the  North  as  for  the  discomfiture 
of  the  openly  declared  enemy  in  the  South  ?  It  was  the  duty 
of  the  congregation  to  cultivate  that  firm  unwavering  loyalty 
to  the  government  that  would  recognize  no  distinction  between 
the  open  foe  and  the  secret  enemy." 

It  was  no  easy  task  for  the  preacher  to  make  an  impas- 
sioned appeal  like  this.  In  view  of  the  situation  and  the 
public  sentiment  in  Philadelphia  at  this  time,  even  in  his 
own  congregation,  it  called  for  the  same  courage  and  inspira- 
tion which  moved  the  soldier  in  the  field  of  battle.  The 
stress  and  tension  of  these  multiplied  labors,  with  his  spirit 
in  tumultuous  excitement  until  his  strong  will  should  see  its 
travail  accomplished,  was  relieved  by  the  delightful  social 
environment  in  which  his  days  were  passed.  It  was  a  repeti- 
tion of  the  story  of  the  preceding  year,  as  given  in  the  last 
chapter,  only  the  friendships  were  grown  more  intimate, 
richer,  and  stronger  with  time.  Clerical  society  in  Phila- 
delphia gained  additional  attraction  at  this  time  by  important 
accessions.  Among  these  were  the  Rev.  Treadwell  Walden 
and  the  late  Rev.  E.  A.  Washburn.  Mr.  Walden  became 
the  rector  of  St.  Clement's  Church,  where  the  unusual  tone 
of  his  preaching,  and  its  superior  character,  combined  with 
his  impressive  power  as  a  speaker,  drew  many  interested 
hearers  to  swell  his  congregations.  Dr.  Washburn,  who  in 
his  day  was  foremost  in  the  ranks  of  American  scholarship 
as  well  as  an  interesting  and  powerful  preacher,  was  also 
specially  welcomed  by  Mr.  Brooks,  who  discerned  in  him  at 
once  the  type  of  a  man  to  be  admired  and  followed.  Thus 
he  writes :  — 

I  have  just  had  a  call  from  a  capital  New  England  man,  Dr. 
Washburn  of  Hartford,  Conn.,  who  has  just  come  here  to  take 
charge  of  St.  Mark's  Church.  He  is  a  Cambridge  man,  of  the 


JET.  27]        THE  NATIONAL  CRISIS  447 

best  kind  of  our  ministry.     He  will  be  a  great  addition  to  our 
number  of  interesting  men  here. 

This  was  Phillips  Brooks's  first  contact  with  a  new  school 
of  preachers  and  theologians  which  was  to  become  known  as 
the  Broad  Church,  —  a  name  originating  in  England  in  the 
decade  of  the  fifties.  Those  who  were  affiliated  under  this 
designation  had  at  first  claimed  the  title  of  Catholic  in  con- 
tradistinction from  the  Oxford  and  Evangelical  schools.  It 
is  difficult  to  describe  them  as  a  class,  for  so  far  as  there  was 
agreement  among  them  in  opinion,  it  had  been  reached  in- 
dependently, under  the  influence  of  current  tendencies  in 
thought  and  scholarship.  One  common  characteristic  be- 
longed to  them:  they  were  fearless  men  unterrified  by  the 
discoveries  of  science  or  the  results  of  Biblical  criticism. 
They  had  not  shared  in  the  panic  caused  by  the  famous 
"Essays  and  Reviews;"  they  refused  to  join  in  the  cry  that 
"the  church  is  in  danger!"  Rather  did  they  see  a  larger 
opening  for  true  religion  in  the  fruits  of  an  awakened  intellec- 
tual activity.  They  held  with  Hooker  and  Bishop  Butler 
that  the  human  reason  was  the  God-given  faculty  for  verify- 
ing the  divine  revelation.  They  aspired  after  a  larger  free- 
dom, and  were  interested  in  all  methods  for  bringing  the 
influence  of  the  church  to  bear  more  directly  upon  the  people 
in  the  upbuilding  of  Christian  character.  In  a  word,  they 
were  the  new  generation  of  Christian  thinkers.  There  had 
come  to  them  alike  an  inspiration  from  Coleridge  and  from 
Maurice,  from  Arnold  and  from  Stanley.  They  found  satis- 
faction in  Kingsley  and  in  Robertson  and  Bushnell,  begetting 
a  new  enthusiasm  for  proclaiming  the  gospel  of  Christ  and 
the  kingdom  of  God.  With  these  writers  Phillips  Brooks 
was  familiar  and  in  deep  sympathy.  Hitherto  he  had  walked 
almost  alone,  emerging  from  the  school  at  Alexandria  with  a 
consciousness  of  a  want  of  sympathy  with  his  teachers,  while 
yet  holding  with  deep  conviction  to  the  sovereign  Lordship 
of  Christ  over  every  human  soul.  With  his  new  friends  he 
took  counsel,  interested  to  know  by  what  divine  paths  God 
had  led  them  into  the  larger  room.  There  were  others  of  a 
similar  spirit  whom  he  met  at  this  time  in  Philadelphia, 


448  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1863 

forming  with  them  friendships  which  were  as  enduring  as 
life,  among  them  Bishop  Clark  of  Rhode  Island,  and  Dr. 
Harwood,  rector  of  Trinity  Church  in  New  Haven.  It  would 
be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  these  men  were  united  by  any 
party  shibboleth  or  sought  to  accomplish  any  partisan  aim. 
But  they  did  have  a  common  sympathy  in  the  open  mind,  in 
their  belief  in  free  inquiry,  in  their  emancipation  from  the 
shackles  of  traditional  interpretation.  They  had  an  interest 
in  literature  as  well  as  theology ;  they  looked  upon  the  state 
as  sharing  in  a  divine  life  as  well  as  the  church,  and  they 
refused  to  narrow  the  church  to  any  one  ecclesiastical  denom- 
ination. If  they  had  a  common  motto  it  was  this :  Where 
the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is,  there  is  liberty. 

Among  the  phases  of  the  larger  ministry,  to  which  Phillips 
Brooks  was  impelled  by  some  irresistible  call,  was  his  effort 
to  overcome  the  indifference,  even  the  avowed  hostility,  toward 
the  government  in  its  prosecution  of  the  war.  That  such 
sentiments  toward  Lincoln  and  his  administration  did  exist 
in  Philadelphia  is  evident  ; l  but  it  should  also  be  said,  in 
order  not  to  create  any  misimpression,  that  the  same  apathy 
or  hostility  might  be  found  in  other  Northern  cities,  in  New 
York  and  in  Boston.  To  determine  its  relative  proportion, 
or  whether  society  in  Philadelphia  was  more  widely  and 
deeply  affected  by  disloyalty  than  elsewhere,  is  a  question  we 
are  not  here  called  upon  to  discuss.  That  Phillips  Brooks 
rose  up  in  his  might  to  defend  the  war  and  to  put  disloyalty 
to  flight  does  not  indicate  that,  in  his  judgment,  Philadel- 
phia called  for  his  protest  more  than  other  places.  Thus  he 
writes  March  23,  1863: — 

I  have  been  away  two  days  this  week  preaching  in  New  Jersey. 
It  was  disheartening  to  see  the  state  of  public  feeling  there,  the 
apathy  or  opposition  to  the  administration  that  has  made  that 
little  State  disgraceful.  But  surely  things  are  looking  very  much 
better  everywhere.  It  seems  as  if  the  more  we  suffer  the  more 
we  must  feel  ourselves  committed  to  finish  completely  the  great 
work  we  have  undertaken. 

1  Cf.  Phillipt  Broola,  by  M.  A.  De  Wolfe  Howe,  in  "  The  Beacon  Biogra- 
phies," pp.  26,  27. 


CHURCH  OF  THE   HOLY  TRINITY,   PHILADELPHIA,   INTERIOR 


MT.  27]        THE  NATIONAL  CRISIS  449 

How  the  situation  in  Philadelphia  appeared  to  an  eye- 
witness, who  was  in  sympathy  with  Mr.  Brooks  in  his  effort 
to  overcome  the  apathy  and  disloyalty  of  the  city,  is  shown  in 
this  extract  from  a  letter  by  the  late  Rev.  R.  C.  Matlack :  — 

When  Mr.  Brooks  became  rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy 
Trinity  in  1862  he  found  very  few  anti-slavery  men  among  our 
clergy,  and  a  strong  secession  sentiment  pervading  society  which 
was  well  represented  in  his  new  church.  A  writer'  of  the  day 
said,  "Society  was  in  sympathy  with  the  rebellion."  Party 
spirit  ran  so  high  that  old  friends  would  not  recognize  each  other 
in  the  street.  The  "Palmetto  Flag"  was  published  here,  and 
openly  sold  on  the  street.  The  "North  American  "  of  November, 
1862,  declared,  "The  Union  feeling  in  Baltimore  is  stronger  at 
this  time  than  it  is  in  Philadelphia. "  The  "  Press  "  in  November, 
1862,  said,  "In  Philadelphia  we  see  men  diligently  comforting 
one  another,  consulting  together,  gathering  strength,  and  quietly 
combining  to  undermine  and  destroy  the  nation.  All  the  splen- 
dor of  brilliant  society  and  the  fascinations  of  social  intercourse 
are  combined  to  accomplish  this  woeful  purpose."  A  leading 
society  man  said  that  "unmixed  society  ordered  matters,  and 
that  all  gentlemen  would  soon  be  of  their  way  of  thinking. 
The  President  was  vulgar,  the  administration  was  vulgar,  and 
the  people  who  urged  the  war  were  of  the  common  sort,  who 
would  shortly  receive  a  merited  castigation  from  the  gentlemen  of 
the  South,  whom  the  herd  was  vainly  endeavoring  to  deprive  of 
their  Biblical,  heaven-derived,  constitutional,  natural,  carnal  pro- 
perty." 

The  Union  League  (Club)  was  founded  to  counteract  this  bane- 
ful influence  of  society.  I  accompanied  Phillips  Brooks  to  the 
opening  meeting  (February,  1863),  and  he  made  one  of  those  bold, 
Union  speeches  for  which  he  became  famous,  although  his  parish 
was  a  new  organization,  heavily  in  debt,  and  he  was  in  danger  of 
losing  some  of  his  most  important  members  by  his  decided  action. 
When  most  pulpits  were  silent  and  some  adverse,  his  gave  forth 
no  uncertain  sound.  His  manly,  courageous  utterances  did  much 
to  turn  the  tide  of  society  in  favor  of  the  abolition  of  slavery 
and  the  preservation  of  the  Union. 

To  these  reminiscences  may  be  added  the  comment  on  Mr. 
Brooks's  attitude  by  the  Rev.  C.  A.  L.  Richards,  who  stood 
by  his  side  in  those  days  of  trial :  — 

Through  those  tremendous  years  Brooks  was  foremost  in  all 
patriotic  work.  The  times  tried  men,  as  in  the  fires,  of  what 


450  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1863 

stuff  they  were ;  his  stood  the  proof.  The  times  demanded  heroes 
even  in  civil  life.  It  needed  manhood  in  those  days  to  withstand 
the  pressure  of  those  who  would  fain  have  ignoble  peace.  Phila- 
delphia was  close  to  the  border,  and  Southern  sympathizers  — 
there  was  a  pithier  word  in  common  use  —  abounded.  Faction 
ran  high.  Brooks  did  not  defy  it.  He  quietly  disregarded  it, 
went  his  ways  in  spite  of  it,  took  his  heroism  naturally,  not 
tragically,  as  if  men  were  always  true  and  brave.  In  the  pulpit, 
on  the  platform,  he  was  earnestly  and  eloquently  on  the  side  of 
the  nation,  appealing  to  what  was  noblest  and  loftiest  in  her 
sons.  .  .  .  Presently  both  the  educated  and  the  illiterate  rabble 
discovered  that  they  were  dealing  with  that  unusual  thing,  a  man ; 
less  uncommon  at  that  crisis  than  at  some  other  periods,  but  none 
too  common  in  the  ministry,  certainly  then ;  one  whom  they  could 
not  anger  into  indiscretion,  nor  threaten  into  subservience,  nor 
tempt  to  unworthy  surrender ;  a  man  of  the  fibre  of  an  old-time 
prophet,  with  a  message  to  be  uttered  whether  the  people  heeded 
or  refused  it ;  whether  they  brought  wreaths  to  crown,  or  stones 
to  stone  him ;  whether  they  would  build  him  a  pedestal,  or  dig 
him  a  grave.  I  despair  of  making  the  young  men  of  to-day  un- 
derstand what  it  cost  in  those  days  to  be  lord  of  one's  own  soul. 
Through  that  weary  time,  what  an  overflowing  reservoir  of  mortal 
force,  of  hope,  of  courage,  of  high  resolve,  Brooks  was  to  all  of 
us.  Then,  as  ever,  his  presence  was  an  inspiration.  There  were 
dark  days,  —  days  when,  as  we  met  on  a  street  corner,  after  some 
bloody  reverse  of  our  armies,  he  could  only  wring  my  hand  and 
say,  "Isn't  it  horrible?  "  and  pass  on  gloomily;  days  when  it  was 
easy  to  take  counsel  of  one's  meaner  fears  and  cry  for  peace  at 
any  price,  and  try  to  patch  up  any  miserable  cabin  of  refuge  from 
the  storm  which  beat  upon  our  hearts.  But  his  heart  never 
flinched  or  quailed.  His  light  ever  shone  out  clear. 

One  of  Mr.  Brooks's  courageous  utterances  has  already 
been  referred  to,  in  the  address  on  the  national  Fast  Day. 
It  is  a  painful  task  now  that  these  events  have  long  gone  by 
to  recall  them  again  to  memory.  But  to  omit  them  in  a  bio- 
graphy of  Phillips  Brooks  would  be  an  injustice  to  the  man, 
for  in  a  great  measure  he  was  roused  by  them  to  assert  the 
heroic  proportions  of  his  nature.  The  war  with  its  issues 
came  at  the  moment  when  he  was  beginning  his  ministry, 
and  helped  to  make  him  great.  He  went  forth  out  of  himself 
to  become  identified  with  a  moral  purpose,  or  rather  the 
moral  purpose  entered  into  his  soul,  taking  possession  of  all 


MT.  27]       THE  NATIONAL  CRISIS  451 

his  powers.  He  forgot  self  and  his  own  interests  in  his 
devotion  to  the  nation's  life  and  prosperity.  There  was  here 
an  enlargement  of  his  whole  being,  creating  the  sense  of  power 
and  making  him  equal  to  the  greatest  emergency  that  can 
befall  a  nation.  He  seems  to  assume  the  burden  of  the  war 
as  if  it  were  his  own,  and  he  were  a  leader  raised  up  by  God 
to  speak  to  the  people  and  lead  them  forth  from  bondage. 
He  became  a  representative  man,  taking  his  place  in  the 
foremost  ranks,  and  though  still  a  youth  in  years,  exhibit- 
ing the  capacity  for  leadership,  in  wisdom  and  gravity,  in 
directness  and  power,  and  with  enthralling  eloquence.  People 
had  become  familiar  with  the  ideas,  and  mode  of  urging 
them,  of  the  older  men  who  had  long  been  before  the  country. 
But  here  was  youthful  enthusiasm  combined  with  freshness 
of  view,  yet  also  with  maturity  of  judgment.  The  struggle 
to  which  he  was  called  might  have  seemed  an  unequal  one, 
but  when  once  committed  to  it,  he  threw  into  the  balance 
that  unique  quality  in  his  nature,  which  he  did  not  under- 
stand and  cannot  be  described,  —  the  gift  of  oratory, 
strangely  moving  men  even  against  their  will,  a  mysterious 
accompaniment  of  his  personality  never  failing  him,  but 
always  at  his  call  when  the  moment  came  for  speech.  He 
does  not  appear  greatly  to  mind  the  inevitable  opposition  he 
encountered,  the  scorn  and  contempt  expressing  itself  in  bit- 
ter language.  In  a  letter  dated  June  6,  1863,  he  refers,  a 
rare  thing  with  him,  to  the  criticism  he  is  meeting :  — 

I  have  nothing  particular  to  tell  you  to-day  about  myself,  and 
so  I  will  let  you  see  what  other  people  say  about  me  by  enclosing 
a  slip  from  our  Copperhead  journal  which  some  kind  friend  has 
just  sent  me.  Is  n't  it  terrible  to  think  of  this  fearful  plot  to 
fill  the  churches  and  schools  with  New  England  radicals,  and 
gradually  seize  on  all  Philadelphia,  and  make  another  Boston  of 
it.  I  suppose  a  part  of  our  plan  must  be  to  get  possession  of  the 
financial  institutions ;  so  just  hold  yourself  in  readiness  to  come 
on  and  take  a  radical  cashiership  as  soon  as  things  are  ready  for 
it.  This  sort  of  feeling  is  very  strong  here,  and  is  making  a 
pretty  hard  fight,  but  it  can't  stand.  The  world  moves.  Vicks- 
burg  is  not  ours  yet,  but  everything  looks  promising,  and  perhaps 
we  do  not  know  how  near  we  are  to  the  end.  At  any  rate  the 


452  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1863 

conviction  is  stronger  every  day  that,  long  or  short,  there  's  nothing 
to  be  done  but  fight  it  out,  and  "put  down  the  rebellion." 

A  victory  of  General  Robert  E.  Lee,  the  commander  of  the 
Confederate  forces,  over  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  in  May, 
1863,  left  the  North  unprotected,  and  General  Lee  de- 
cided to  carry  the  war  into  Pennsylvania.  At  first  it  was 
hard  to  realize  that  the  State  was  actually  in  danger  of  inva- 
sion. Men  refused  to  believe  it.  The  Quaker  sentiment, 
always  a  large  contingent  in  the  city  founded  by  William 
Penn,  now  met  the  test  of  its  strength  and  value.  War  may 
be  wrong  and  a  great  evil,  the  duty  of  non-resistance  may  have 
its  place  among  the  Evangelical  precepts,  but  when  a  great 
city  is  in  danger  of  invasion,  it  is  necessary  that  something 
should  be  done  to  repel  the  invaders.  This  letter  describes 
the  situation  as  it  appeared  to  Phillips  Brooks :  — 

Saturday,  Jane  27, 1863. 

DKAU  FATHER,  —  I  suppose  you  must  be  wondering  a  little 
what  is  the  state  of  mind  in  this  poor  bethreatened  city.  I  wish 
yon  could  be  here  and  see  how  dead  and  apathetic  men  can  be, 
with  an  enemy  almost  at  their  doors.  I  don't  think  that  Lee  is 
coming  to  Philadelphia,  but  there  certainly  is  threatening  enough 
of  it  to  make  us  get  ready  if  he  did  come.  Nothing  is  doing 
here  at  all.  Yesterday  the  Union  League  decided  that  it  might 
be  well  to  get  up  a  regiment,  but  as  yet,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  not 
more  than  2000  men  have  gone  from  Philadelphia,  and  the  men 
who  are  protecting  the  line  of  the  Susquehanna  are  New  Yorkers 
and  New  Englanders.  I  am  ashamed  of  Philadelphia  and  Penn- 
sylvania, and  proud  as  usual  of  New  England.  Of  course  all 
our  town  talk  is  of  the  invasion.  We  do  not  think  that  Phila- 
delphia is  very  likely  to  be  their  aim.  Evidently  they  are  trying 
to  delude  us,  and  will  more  likely  strike  either  at  Pittsburg  or  at 
Baltimore.  Some  timid  people  here  are  a  good  deal  scared.  I 
will  let  you  know  if  there  is  any  danger.  I  see  George's  Regi- 
ment is  after  this  new  raid.  How  much  hard  life  and  terrible 
work  the  dear  boy  has  escaped.  I  think  of  him  always.  I  see 
Mr.  Stone's  letter  is  in  the  "Recorder  "  this  week.  I  don't 
know  how  it  got  there. 

Good-by  —  one  week  more  (unless  I  am  kept  here  by  danger  of 
a  capture)  and  I  am  with  you.  Love  to  Mother. 

Yours  affectionately, 

PHILL. 


JET.  27]        THE  NATIONAL  CRISIS  453 

Sunday  P.  M. 

There  is  a  little  more  excitement  here.  The  rebels  are  at 
York,  and  the  women  and  children  are  coming  down  from 
Harrisburg. 

At  the  time  when  this  letter  was  written,  he  notes  in  his 
diary  for  Saturday,  June  27,  1863:  "Lee's  army  is  at 
Carlisle,  only  one  hundred  miles  from  Philadelphia,  and  yet 
the  city  is  perfectly  quiet  and  a  terrible  apathy  is  keeping 
everybody  idle,  just  waiting  to  be  taken."  And  again  on  the 
following  Monday,  June  29:  "Meeting  of  the  clergy  of  all 
churches  to  offer  their  services  to  the  mayor."  This  last 
remark  is  illuminated  by  a  reminiscence  of  Dr.  Richards :  — 

From  Cooper's  study  proceeded  one  movement  that  the  chroni- 
cle of  those  crowded  years  should  not  quite  lose  from  view.  The 
enemy  was  at  the  gate.  Lee's  army  had  invaded  Pennsylvania, 
was  before  Harrisburg,  was  threatening  Philadelphia.  The 
Quaker  City  was  carrying  non-resistance  to  its  last  consequence, 
was  folding  its  hands  and  shaking  in  its  shoes,  and  waiting  for 
Providence  or  the  general  government  to  come  to  its  rescue.  It 
was  a  panic  of  stupor  akin  to  a  dumb  ague.  Brooks,  Cooper,  and 
the  rest  of  us,  assembled  on  a  Monday  morning  in  Cooper's 
study,  waxed  hot  at  the  local  inaction.  If  laymen  would  do 
nothing  it  was  time  for  the  clergy  to  move.  We  did  move  on  the 
moment.  We  drew  up  a  paper  offering  our  services  for  the  pub- 
lic defence.  We  would  not  take  up  arms,  but  we  could  shoulder 
shovels  and  dig  trenches.  Several  clerical  meetings  were  in  ses- 
sion that  noon,  and  we  sent  delegates  to  rouse  them.  With 
Brooks  and  the  venerable  Albert  Barnes  at  the  head  of  the  pro- 
cession we  stormed  the  mayor's  office,  a  hundred  or  more  strong, 
and  asked  to  be  set  at  work  on  the  defences  of  the  city.  We 
retired,  bought  our  spades  and  haversacks,  and  waited  for  orders. 
The  example  served  its  purpose.  The  sting  stung.  The  city 
bestirred  itself,  and  the  peril  passed  without  our  being  called  into 
service.  But  Brooks  and  Albert  Barnes  were  ready,  and  I  trust 
some  of  the  rest  of  us. 

As  the  situation  still  seemed  uncertain,  Mr.  Brooks  wrote 
home  that  he  did  not  feel  at  liberty  to  leave  his  post  for  the 

annual  holiday :  — 

July  4, 1863. 

The  fact  is,  I  don't  like  to  leave  here  while  things  are  just 
in  the  present  condition;  not  that  I  think  there  is  any  danger 


454  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1863 

of  their  coming  here,  but  people  are  a  good  deal  excited,  and  till 
the  terrible  battle  of  this  week  is  over,  and  its  results  well  con- 
firmed, I  shall  not  leave.  It  will  probably  be  only  a  short  delay, 
and  I  will  write  you  next  week  just  as  soon  as  I  see  my  way 
clear  to  getting  off.  Everything  to-day  looks  promising;  we  are 
going  to  beat  and  bag  their  army,  I  believe,  and  then  the  war  is 
about  over.  I  am  sorry  to  shorten  my  vacation,  but  I  must  not 
leave  just  now. 

The  events  of  these  weeks  culminating  in  the  fierce  and 
sanguinary  battle  of  Gettysburg,  Pa.,  where  50,000  men 
were  lost  out  of  170,000  engaged,  are  told  in  the  entries  in 
his  pocket  diary,  which,  brief  as  they  are,  thrill  with  the 
excitement  of  the  moment. 

Saturday,  July  4,  1863.  8.16  p.  M.  Services  in  Holy 
Trinity.  I  read  and  made  a  short  address.  All  the  forenoon 
down  town.  Great  news  of  Lee's  repulse  by  Meade.  Dinner  at 
Dr.  Mitchell's  (Weir)  with  Cooper  and  Richards.  Evening  at 
Union  League.  Still  good  news. 

Sunday,  July  6,  1863.  Fifth  Sunday  after  Trinity.  I  read, 
spoke,  and  administered  the  communion.  During  the  communion 
service  news  came  of  Lee's  rout,  and  I  announced  it  to  the  con- 
gregation. God  be  praised. 

Monday,  July  6,  1863.  Evening.  Started  for  the  battlefield 
under  the  auspices  of  the  Sanitary  Commission.  Arrived  at 
Baltimore  about  four  o'clock  the  next  morning. 

Tuesday,  July  7,  1863.  Spent  all  day  making  arrangements 
and  trying  to  get  off  to  Gettysburg.  Started  in  freight  train  at 
seven  o'clock  p.  M.,  and  spent  the  night  in  the  cars,  arriving  at 
Hanover  at  seven  o'clock  the  next  morning. 

Wednesday,  July  8,  1863.  Almost  all  day  at  Hanover. 
Cooper  with  sick  headache.  Left  for  Gettysburg  at  five  o'clock 
p.  M.  Arrived  about  seven.  Cooper,  Kent  Stone,  *  and  I  slept 
in  loft  of  a  tar-shop. 

Thursday,  July  9,  1863.  A.  M.  At  Sanitary  Commission. 
Tent  near  the  depot.  Then  all  over  the  battlefield. 

Friday,  July  10,  1863.  All  day  at  the  hospital  of  the  Second 
Division  of  the  Fifth  Corps,  distributing  clothes  and  writing 
letters  for  the  men.  Very  tired  at  night. 

Saturday,  July  11,  1863.  Walked  with  Cooper  to  the  hos- 
pital of  the  Pennsylvania  Reserves,  p.  M.  Among  the  rebel 
prisoners  in  the  Third  Corps.  Terrible  need  and  suffering. 

1  Kc  v.  Jam os  Kent  Stone,  a  son  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  John  S.  Stone,  who  went  to 
the  battlefield  in  search  of  the  body  of  hia  brother. 


.  27]        THE  NATIONAL  CRISIS  455 

Sunday,  July  12,  1863.  All  day  among  the  rebel  prisoners 
in  the  Third  Corps  Hospital.  P.  M.  Went  into  Gettysburg  and 
spent  the  night  at  Professor  Stevens'. 

Monday,  July  13,  1863.  All  day  travelling  to  Philadelphia. 
Arrived  about  10.30  P.  M. 

In  these  brief  records  one  is  struck  with  his  desire  to  be 
of  practical  service  in  the  simplest  of  ways.  Those  who  know 
what  healing  power  he  carried  with  his  presence  can  appreci- 
ate what  it  meant  when  he  went  through  the  wards  of  the 
hospital.  It  is  also  beautiful  to  note  that  in  this  awful  hour 
he  knew  no  discrimination  between  Northern  and  Southern 
soldiers.  His  affection  seems  to  have  gone  out  to  the 
latter. 

While  these  events  were  transacting,  Frederick  Brooks 
was  graduating  from  Harvard  College.  He  had  rivalled 
Phillips  in  taking  the  Bowdoin  prize,  he  had  surpassed  him 
in  his  class-day  appointment  as  odist,  a  distinction  which 
the  older  brother  would  have  valued.  He  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  study  for  the  ministry,  but  for  some  reason,  which 
he  found  difficulty  in  explaining,  he  did  not  wish  to  begin  at 
once  his  theological  studies.  Meantime  he  was  casting  about 
for  some  temporary  employment  until  his  difficulties  should 
be  overcome.  Under  these  circumstances  he  came  to  his 
brother  for  advice.  The  letters  written  by  Phillips  Brooks 
to  Frederick  are  full  of  wise  caution  and  suggestion.  He 
did  not  seek  to  inquire  too  closely  into  his  brother's  state 
of  mind,  but  respected  his  reserve.  He  was  afraid  that  if 
Frederick  became  engaged  in  other  work,  even  temporarily, 
he  might  be  lost  to  the  ministry.  He  suggested  that  his  un- 
willingness at  once  to  enter  a  theological  school  sprang  from 
a  mood  he  had  himself  experienced,  —  "the  temporary  disgust 
with  college  which  everybody  feels  about  class  day,"  and 
reminded  him  how  different  his  life  would  be  in  the  theo- 
logical seminary  from  the  Cambridge  work :  — 

I  do  not  believe  you  would  see  your  way  any  clearer  a  year 
hence  into  the  ministry  than  now.  I  believe  the  hesitations  and 
doubts  you  feel  belong  to  every  inception  of  so  great  a  work,  and 
are  best  met  by  earnest  investigation  and  prompt  decision. 


456  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1863 

When  Frederick  still  found  himself  unable  to  reach  a 
decision,  Phillips  wrote  to  him  again,  urging  the  ministry, 
dissuading  him  from  enlisting  as  a  private  in  the  ranks,  for 
which  he  was  manifestly  unfitted,  but  reluctantly  acquiescing 
in  the  plan  that  he  should  try  the  Sanitary  Commission  as  a 
kind  of  missionary  work :  — 

Every  day  I  have  more  and  more  forced  upon  me  the  immedi- 
ate need  of  the  right  sort  of  ministers  in  the  church,  earnest,  in- 
telligent, and  loyal  men,  who  will  help  to  make  the  church  gome- 
thing  of  the  large,  liberal,  progressive  (or  if  you  please,  truly 
conservative)  power  that  it  ought  to  be.  Can  you,  have  you,  a 
right  to  postpone,  with  the  chance  of  its  never  being  resumed, 
this  which  you  have  settled  on  as  the  great  duty  of  your  life? 

This  correspondence  is  a  beautiful  one,  disclosing  the 
reverence  and  confidence  of  the  younger  brother,  and  on  the 
other  side  the  large  heart,  anxious  to  be  of  service,  studying 
the  situation  as  if  it  were  his  own.  He  finally  writes  to 
Frederick,  suggesting  that  he  is  tired  with  the  long  strain  of 
college  years,  and  invites  him  to  join  his  party,  in  the  sum- 
mer, in  a  trip  through  the  White  Mountains :  — 

You  are  just  out  of  college;  you  need  relaxation.  Will  you  not 
accompany  us  to  the  White  Mountains  this  summer?  Richards 
and  Strong  and  Henry  Potter  (Bishop  Potter's  son,  a  nice  fellow) 
and  I  have  a  plan  of  spending  three  weeks  in  August  in  tramping 
and  sightseeing  among  the  Hills.  We  shall  all  be  truly  glad  to 
have  you  join  us.  Don't  say,  "They  're  strangers,"  and  turn  off 
disgusted.  They  won't  be  strangers  for  a  half  day.  They  're 
not  men  you  '11  mind  at  all,  and  we  '11  have  a  tiptop  time.  Now, 
my  dear  boy,  say  you  '11  go,  won't  you?  We  shall  start  about 
the  first  of  August.  Make  your  mind  and  body  ready  for  it. 
Of  course  I  shall  claim  the  privilege  of  paying  all  the  expenses 
for  us  two.  Write  soon ;  send  me  a  copy  of  your  Ode,  and  say 
you  '11  go. 

The  formal  year  which  begins  on  the  1st  of  January  does 
not  correspond  with  the  reality  in  the  life  of  a  student  or  a 
city  pastor.  Nor  does  the  ecclesiastical  year  correspond 
more  closely.  The  year  of  work  and  of  actual  life  begins 
with  the  fall,  and  ends  with  the  coming  of  the  following 
summer.  This  sense  of  the  division  of  time  stamped  by  the 


JET.  27]        THE  NATIONAL  CRISIS  457 

university  and  the  professional  school  upon  the  experience 
of  youth  continued  to  abide  with  Mr.  Brooks  throughout  his 
ministry.  His  work  for  the  year  was  done  when  he  had 
gathered  in  harvest,  or  taken  stock  as  it  were  in  the  candi- 
dates who  presented  themselves  for  confirmation.  Then  he 
turned  his  face  homeward  as  from  an  enforced  absence,  to 
luxuriate  in  the  sense  of  freedom  from  care  and  responsi- 
bility, but  also  in  quiet  to  abide  with  himself,  and,  apart 
from  the  scene  of  his  labors,  to  review  his  experience,  to  draw 
lessons  of  wisdom  for  the  year  that  was  to  follow.  And 
throughout  his  ministry  the  summer  vacation  meant  to  him 
not  only  the  opportunity  of  recreation  and  escape  from  labor, 
but  the  period  when  he  replenished  his  intellectual  and  spirit- 
ual store,  feeding  directly  from  the  pastures  of  life.  Any 
account  of  his  work  to  be  at  all  adequate  must  follow  him 
in  his  summer  wanderings  from  year  to  year. 

Thus  on  the  16th  of  July  in  1863  he  returned  to  his  home 
in  Boston,  where  he  remained  with  his  family  for  a  few 
weeks  before  making  another  tour  of  the  White  Mountains. 
The  incidents  of  each  day  are  briefly  recorded.  The  first 
thing  was  to  turn  to  Mount  Auburn  on  a  visit  to  the  new- 
made  grave.  He  began  again  to  ride  horseback.  He  was 
often  at  his  old  haunts  in  the  Athenaeum,  looking  into  books, 
making  acquaintance  with  ecclesiastical  painting  or  modern 
art,  so  far  as  the  limited  opportunity  afforded  him  in  the  art 
gallery  allowed.  Through  the  more  ample  income  now  at 
his  disposal  he  was  able  to  become  the  owner  of  the  books 
which  most  interested  him.  He  mentions  the  purchase  of 
new  bookcases  to  accommodate  his  increasing  acquisitions. 
That  he  still  retained  his  classical  bias  is  shown  in  the  entry 
for  one  of  the  days  when  he  had  been  lounging  in  a  book- 
shop: "Bought  books,  Livy,  four  volumes,  15.00;  Liddell's 
'History  of  Rome,'  $6.00;  Middleton's  'Life  of  Cicero,' 
$1.75." 

Since  he  was  last  at  home  a  change  had  been  made  by  his 
father's  family  in  their  church  relations;  they  had  given  up 
their  pew  at  St.  Paul's  Church  and  migrated  to  Trinity 
Church,  then  situated  on  Summer  Street.  Religious  life  at 


458  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1863 

Trinity  might  be  very  different  from  what  it  had  been,  less 
profitable  than  in  the  palmy  days  at  St.  Paul's,  when  Dr. 
Vinton  was  its  rector,  but  it  was  not  disagreeable  at  least,  and 
that  was  a  gain.  The  mother  of  Phillips  Brooks  found  no 
satisfaction  in  the  new  style  of  preaching  then  coming  into 
vogue  among  the  Evangelical  school.  It  differed  from  the 
older,  simpler  style  represented  by  Dr.  Stone  and  Dr.  Vinton, 
in  the  importance  it  attached  to  a  minute  study  of  the  words 
of  Scripture,  in  the  finding  of  concealed  or  unobserved  truths 
by  the  close  scrutiny  of  tenses  and  cases.  The  Bible  was 
becoming  no  longer  an  open  book  which  the  wayfaring  man 
might  read  with  ease,  but  a  complicated  network  calling  for 
concentrated  effort  in  order  to  unravel  the  intricacy  of  its 
meaning.  The  preacher  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  an  inter- 
minable argument  built  upon  remote  premises  which  only  the 
initiated  could  follow;  and  if  once  the  clue  was  lost,  it  seemed 
impossible  to  regain  one's  way.  The  doctrine  of  the  second 
coming  of  Christ  almost  became  the  leading  tenet  of  belief, 
calling  for  elaborate  investigation  to  determine  whether  it 
preceded  or  succeeded  the  millennium.  From  these  pecul- 
iarities the  pulpit  of  Trinity  Church  at  least  was  free,  even 
if  it  were  dull.  Trinity  Church  had  also  gained  for  the  fam- 
ily a  sacred  association  in  the  pictures  photographed  upon 
the  mother's  heart  of  George  presenting  himself  at  its  altar 
for  confirmation. 

At  the  invitation  of  Bishop  Eastburn,  Mr.  Brooks  preached 
at  Trinity  Church  on  the  afternoon  of  Sunday,  the  26th  of 
July.  It  was  midsummer,  and  the  congregation  was  so  small 
as  to  seem  almost  invisible.  This  was  not  the  first  occasion 
of  his  preaching  at  Trinity,  and  the  meagre  attendance  may 
have  been  owing  to  the  circumstance  that  no  announcement 
had  been  made  that  he  was  to  preach.  But  there  was  one 
present  who  made  the  occasion  the  subject  of  reminiscences 
in  later  years.  He  had  called  on  Bishop  Eastburn  in  his 
house  on  Tremont  Street  opposite  the  Common,  and  in  the 
course  of  the  conversation  asked  the  bishop  where  he  should 
go  to  church  the  following  Sunday.  The  bishop  answered : 
"I  think  you  had  better  go  to  my  church,  for  I  shall  have 


AT.  27]        THE   NATIONAL   CRISIS  459 

there  a  young  man  from  Philadelphia  named  Brooks,  who  is 
esteemed  to  be  somebody,  and  I  want  you  to  hear  him 
preach." 

On  Sunday  morning,  therefore,  I  went  to  Trinity  Church, 
which,  the  reader  will  remember,  was  the  old  Trinity  in  Summer 
Street,  then  a  quiet  quarter,  still  retaining  many  roomy  houses 
occupied  by  old  Boston  families.  Entering  its  gray  portals  I 
perceived  that  I  might  sit  where  I  liked,  for  there  was  scarce 
anybody  in  the  church.  .  .  .  When  the  time  for  the  sermon 
arrived,  a  person  who  had  been  sitting  silent  in  the  chancel, 
muffled  in  a  black  gown,  emerged  —  or  rather  projected  himself  — 
in  the  direction  of  the  pulpit.  A  tall,  thin  figure  rushed  up  the 
pulpit  steps.  Before  fairly  reaching  the  top  of  them  a  voice 
called  out  the  text,  and  instantly  broke  into  a  speech  of  most 
astonishing  rapidity,  quite  beyond  anything  I  had  ever  experi- 
enced or  imagined  of  human  utterance.  .  .  .  As  soon  as  I  recov- 
ered from  my  surprise,  and  the  mind  could  catch  its  breath,  so 
to  speak,  and  begin  to  keep  up  with  the  preacher's  pace,  I  per- 
ceived that  what  I  was  hearing  was  a  wonderful  sermon,  such  as 
would  oftenest  be  called  brilliant,  perhaps,  but  is  better  described 
as  glowing  and  lambent.  The  text  was  the  verse  of  St.  Paul 
about  seeing  now  "through  a  glass,  darkly;  but  then  face  to  face," 
and  the  discourse  contained  material  for  a  score  of  sermons,  so 
rich  was  it  in  high  thought  and  apt  illustration  and  illuminative 
turns  of  phrase.  I  fancy  that  in  those  days  Dr.  Brooks  used 
illustrations  more  profusely  than  in  later  years.  .  .  .  Possibly 
I  myself  might  find  that  sermon  too  ornate  for  my  maturer  taste, 
but  I  know  the  impression  it  then  made  upon  me  was  not  of  over- 
ornamentation,  but  of  thought  intrinsically  and  aboundingly  rich, 
and  I  believe  that  if  it  shall  see  the  light  among  any  forthcoming 
collection  of  Bishop  Brooks 's  literary  remains,  I  shall  gain  from 
reading  it  the  same  impression  that  it  produced  so  many  years 
ago. 

The  writer  of  this  account  was  impressed  with  the  contrast 
between  the  few  hearers  who  listened  to  Phillips  Brooks  on 
that  midsummer  day  in  1868  and  the  thousands  afterwards, 
in  the  glorified  new  Trinity,  who  dwelt  on  every  note  of  his 
voice,  —  between  the  young  Brooks  who  was  thought  to  be 
somebody  and  the  man  who  became  the  successor  of  Bishop 
Eastburn.  But  appearances  are  deceitful.  In  Mr.  Brooks 's 
diary  for  the  following  Monday,  it  reads,  "Mr.  George 


460  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1863 

Dexter  [the  senior  warden]  called  to  talk  about  my  coming  to 
Trinity  Church."  It  took  six  years  before  this  result  should 
be  accomplished,  but  it  is  interesting  to  note  how  long  the* 
parish  had  kept  him  in  view. 

On  the  second  day  of  August  he  started  on  his  trip  to  the 
White  Mountains,  accompanied  by  his  brother  Frederick,  by 
Mr.  Kir  him  Is,  and  by  Mr.  Stille.1  In  the  course  of  his  tour 
he  met  his  friends  the  Coopers,  the  Ashhursts,  the  Lapsleys, 
and  the  Mitchells.  The  tour  was  interspersed  with  rowing 
and  bathing,  and  occasional  resorts  to  horseback  riding. 
There  was  mountain  climbing ;  from  the  Glen  they  went  up 
Mount  Washington,  and  came  back  to  North  Conway. 

A  few  days  were  spent  in  Boston  after  his  return  from  the 
mountains,  during  which  he  wrote  a  sermon  in  order  to  be 
ready  for  his  first  Sunday  in  Philadelphia.  When  he  reached 
Philadelphia  on  the  5th  of  September  he  records  his  arrival 
with  a  sigh,  "So  vacation's  over!!"  He  returned  to  find 
the  city  "quivering  with  excitement."  The  time  for  the  fall 
elections  was  near.  Governor  Curtin,  the  Republican  candi- 
date for  governor  of  the  State,  was  opposed  by  Judge  Wood- 
ward as  the  Democratic  candidate.  Not  only  did  excitement 
run  high  in  political  circles,  but  in  ecclesiastical  also,  for 
things  were  happening  which  roused  the  indignation  of  the 
Episcopal  clergy.  The  story  is  now  a  curious  one  merely, 
relating  to  the  action  of  Dr.  John  Henry  Hopkins,  the 
Bishop  of  Vermont,  and  referred  to  here  because  of  Phillips 
Brooks's  connection  with  it. 

Bishop  Hopkins  had  resisted  the  action  of  the  General 
Convention  in  1862,  when  it  gave  its  approval  to  the  war  and 
its  support  to  the  government.  This  he  considered  intro- 
ducing politics  into  a  sacrosanct  assembly,  and  therefore  a 
profanation  of  holy  things.  He  had  written  a  book,  the 
"American  Citizen,"  wherein  he  presented  his  views  of 
political  duties  and  relationships.  He  had  been  wont  to 
travel  over  the  country,  delivering  lectures  on  these  topics, 
for  his  diocese  was  small  and  poor,  obliging  him  to  resort  to 

1  Professor  C.  J.  Stille",  the  accomplished  teacher  of  history  in  the  University 
of  Pennsylvania,  and  one  of  his  parishioners. 


JET.  27]        THE  NATIONAL  CRISIS  461 

these  and  other  measures  to  raise  funds  for  his  various  under- 
takings. Among  his  distinctive  views,  he  held  that  the  Bible 
sanctioned  slavery,  an  opinion  to  which  he  had  given  expres- 
sion in  his  "American  Citizen."  But  although  slavery  was 
a  divine  institution,  yet  he  thought  it  should  be  abolished, 
and  that  this  was  the  destiny  reserved  for  it.  His  connection 
with  Pennsylvania  was  a  close  one,  for  he  had  lived  many  years 
in  Pittsburg,  and  was  widely  known  throughout  the  State  by 
clergy  and  laity.  He  was  very  acceptable  as  a  preacher,  and 
was  often  called  upon  to  perform  Episcopal  duties  in  the  State 
at  the  request  of  Bishop  Potter.  The  Democratic  party  in 
Pennsylvania  now  proposed  to  make  use  of  him  in  the  heated 
canvass  between  Curtin  and  Woodward.  Six  gentlemen  of 
Philadelphia  had  requested  his  permission  to  republish  his 
well-known  views  on  slavery,  which  he  had  given  in  a  tract 
issued  in  1861,  and  known  as  the  Bible  view  of  slavery. 
The  original  motive  in  writing  this  tract  had  been  to  cool 
down  if  possible  the  fiery  zeal  of  the  abolitionists.  When  he 
was  thus  approached,  Bishop  Hopkins  gave  his  assent  to  the 
reissue  of  the  tract,  and  in  June,  1863,  it  had  been  reprinted 
by  the  Society  of  the  Diffusion  of  Political  Knowledge  in 
New  York.  Soon  after  it  was  taken  up  and  circulated  by 
the  Democratic  clubs  throughout  the  country,  but  chiefly  in 
Pennsylvania  as  an  electioneering  pamphlet. 

It  was  manifest  that  such  a  proceeding  could  not  go  un- 
challenged without  committing  the  Episcopal  Church  in 
Pennsylvania  to  a  tacit  approval  of  this  extraordinary  docu- 
ment. The  clergy  of  Philadelphia  were  called  together  by 
Bishop  Potter,  a  protest  was  drawn  up  and  entrusted  to  a 
committee  who  should  procure  signatures  to  it.  Of  this 
committee  Mr.  Brooks  was  a  member,  and  by  no  means  an 
inactive  one.  Indeed,  he  was  so  prominent  that  he  was  in- 
correctly suspected  and  accused  of  being  the  author  of  the 
protest.  But  he  did  what  he  could  to  procure  signatures  for 
it,  directing  circulars  with  his  own  hand  to  be  sent  broadcast 
throughout  the  State.  The  protest  was  signed  by  one  hun- 
dred and  sixty  of  the  clergy,  a  very  large  majority  of  those  in 
the  diocese.  This  prompt  and  decisive  action  may  have  had 


462  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1863 

its  influence  on  the  election.  At  any  rate  Governor  Curtin 
was  reflected  by  a  majority  of  20,000;  Judge  Woodward 
was  defeated,  and  withdrew  from  Holy  Trinity  Church.  It 
had  been  he  who  had  done  more  than  any  one  else  to  induce 
Mr.  Brooks  to  become  its  rector,  when  he  was  in  serious 
doubt  as  to  his  duty. 

Saturday  evening,  October  3,  1863. 

I  have  just  got  home  from  oar  monthly  communicants'  meet- 
ing. It  is  the  first  lecture  we  have  had  since  I  '  \  «•  got  back,  and 
somehow  it  has  used  me  up.  I  have  been  at  work  all  day  on 
my  sermon  for  to-morrow  night  (1  Cor.  ix.  26).  Last  Sunday 
afternoon  I  went  out  and  preached  to  our  colored  regiment  at 
Cheltenham.  It  was  new  sort  of  work,  but  I  enjoyed  it.  They 
are  splendid-looking  fellows.  To-day  they  have  been  parading 
through  the  city,  and  seem  to  have  surprised  everybody  by  their 
good  soldierly  looks.  Nobody  talks  about  anything  now  but  the 
election.  We  flatter  ourselves  that  Pennsylvania  is  of  considerable 
importance  this  fall,  and  we  feel  quite  sure  that  she  is  coming  out 
all  right.  Curtin  will  no  doubt  be  elected  by  a  handsome  ma- 
jority. Have  you  seen  what  a  stir  has  been  raised  up  by  Bishop 
Hopkins' s  slavery  letter  and  by  our  clerical  protest  against  it.  It 
may  look  to  you  like  something  of  a  tempest  in  a  teapot,  but  I 
can  assure  you  that  the  letter  was  doing  a  great  deal  of  harm,  and 
that  our  remonstrance  has  been  widely  welcomed.  One  of  the  Cop- 
perhead papers  the  other  day  did  me  the  honor  to  assume  that  I 
had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  it,  and  read  me  a  long  lecture  on  the 
modesty  becoming  young  clergymen.  I  had  no  connection  with  it 
beyond  signing  it. 

The  father  of  Mr.  Brooks  was  anxious  to  get  a  copy  of 
Bishop  Hopkins's  tract,  for  he  was  given  to  collecting  histori- 
cal documents.  His  son  writes  in  reply:  "Did  you  see  that 
Bishop  Hopkins  has  replied  to  our  Protest?  His  answer  is 
very  angry  and  very  silly.  I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  get  a 
copy  of  his  first  pamphlet.  I  have  not  got  one  myself.  They 
are  hard  to  get  hold  of  now."  To  his  brother  he  gives 
further  particulars  regarding  the  recent  election :  — 

October  17, 1863. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  I  have  just  come  home  from  a  long  horse- 
back ride.  Congratulate  me.  We  have  been  gone  all  day,  and 


MT.  27]        THE  NATIONAL   CRISIS  463 

the  parish  has  had  to  take  care  of  itself  in  the  meantime.  Mr. 
Cooper  and  I  took  the  cars  early  this  morning  to  Norristown, 
seventeen  miles  out  of  town,  where  Yocum  met  us  with  horses, 
and  we  put  off  over  the  country,  which  is  magnificent  in  its 
autumn  fires.  I  wish  you  could  have  been  with  us.  I  rode  a  big 
gray  mare,  and  though  not  up  to  Robin  she  certainly  put  me 
through  well.  What  do  you  think  of  last  Tuesday?  Twenty 
thousand  majority  isn't  to  be  sneered  at  here,  and  Ohio  has  done 
better  still.  It  is  worth  another  victory  of  our  armies  thus  to 
have  conquered  disloyalty  here  at  the  North,  and  to  have  got  our 
heel  on  the  neck  of  the  Copperhead. 

If  you  had  been  here  I  think  you  would  have  been  as  much  sur- 
prised as  I  have  been  at  the  radical  character  of  this  campaign 
which  has  just  closed.  And  it  has  been  not  merely  Republican,  but 
anti-slavery;  not  merely  anti-slavery,  but  abolition  all  the  way 
through.  If  this  war  had  n't  done  anything  else  so  far,  at  any 
rate  it  has  made  us  an  anti-slavery  people,  and  begun  the  end  of 
this  infernal  institution.  As  it  is,  Three  cheers  for  Pennsylvania ! 
and  may  she  do  ever  so  much  better  next  year.  I  spent  Tuesday 
night  at  the  League  House,  and  have  seldom  seen  such  an  excite- 
ment as  there  was  when  the  news  came  in  and  the  result  gradually 
became  certain.  Judge  Woodward  has  resigned  his  seat  on  my 
vestry,  and  advertised  his  pew  for  sale.  I  am  sorry,  for  he  is  a 
very  pleasant  man,  and  has  been  one  of  my  kindest  friends.  I 
presume  we  shall  get  along  without  him,  but  I  wish  he  could  have 
stayed  among  us.  .  .  .  Your  rector,  Dr.  Huntington,  preached 
for  me  yesterday  morning,  —  a  splendid  sermon.  In  the  evening 
a  better  one  still  before  the  divinity  school,  in  my  church.  I 
recongratulate  you  on  such  a  man  for  your  minister. 

A  new  and  difficult  problem  in  American  social  life  had 
been  created  when  the  Emancipation  Proclamation  of  Mr. 
Lincoln  had  produced  its  inevitable  effect.  Thousands  and 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  negroes  were  now  thrown  adrift : 
free  indeed,  but  unaccustomed  to  the  use  of  freedom;  hitherto 
cared  for,  with  no  sense  of  responsibility  for  their  mainte- 
nance, and  now  obliged  to  seek  their  own  support ;  ignorant, 
untrained,  unfit  for  the  burden  placed  so  suddenly  upon  them. 
To  have  shirked  this  problem  after  his  enthusiastic  advocacy  of 
the  abolition  of  slavery  would  have  been  unworthy  in  the  last 
degree.  Mr.  Brooks  was  among  the  very  first  to  recognize 
the  importance  of  immediate  and  extensive  action.  His  in- 
terest in  the  colored  people  seems  at  this  time  the  foremost 


464  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1863 

object  in  his  mind.  He  became  an  active  member  of  the 
Freedmen's  Relief  Association.  He  makes  mention  of  fre- 
quent  visits  to  the  negro  regiment  in  camp  near  Philadel- 
phia, watching  them  on  parade,  addressing  them  at  their 
Sunday  services.  He  took  special  pride  in  a  colored  Sun- 
day-school under  the  superintendence  of  Messrs.  Hitter  and 
Clay  at  the  corner  of  13th  and  Race  streets.  This  entry  in 
his  diary  for  November  3,  1863,  illustrates  how  deep  was  his 
interest,  but  the  brief  expression  "I  spoke"  needs  great  ex- 
pansion to  do  justice  to  its  force :  "  Reading  all  the  forenoon 
about  Port  Royal  and  the  Freedmen's  Relief  work.  Dined 
at  Cooper's  with  the  usual  party.  Evening  meeting  at  Con- 
cert Hall  in  behalf  of  the  freed  negroes.  I  spoke." 

These  speeches  in  Philadelphia  seemed  to  excite  equal 
interest  in  Boston,  for  his  father  writes  to  him  two  days 
afterward:  "I  noticed  by  the  papers  to-day  that  you  were 
engaged  in  the  cause  of  freedom  night  before  last,  and  'made 
a  powerful  address  with  marked  effect  upon  the  audience. ' ' 
Much  of  the  information  which  fed  his  enthusiasm  on  this 
subject  came  from  his  brother  Frederick,  who  had  gone  to 
Washington  in  connection  with  the  Sanitary  Commission,  in 
order  to  see  a  life  of  practical  service  in  the  world  before 
entering  the  ministry.  Mr.  Brooks  was  anxious  to  see  the 
Episcopal  Church  identified  with  this  philanthropic  work. 
He  writes  to  his  brother :  "  How  strange  this  monopoly  by 
Unitarians  of  all  the  philanthropy  of  our  time  is !  It  comes 
partly  of  Orthodox  neglect  and  partly  of  Unitarian  asser- 
tion. It  will  be  part  of  your  work  to  give  it  a  practical 
refutation." 

It  goes  without  saying  that  this  devotion  to  their  interests 
by  Phillips  Brooks  was  gratefully  recognized  by  the  colored 
people  in  Philadelphia  and  elsewhere.  Their  worship  of  him 
as  their  champion  and  hero  would  show  itself  in  amusing 
ways,  as  at  evening  parties  and  receptions,  when  it  was 
understood  that  no  one  could  expect  much  attention  from  the 
colored  waiters  if  Phillips  Brooks  were  present.  Long  years 
afterward,  his  acts  of  kindness  to  the  colored  people  in  1863 
were  gratefully  remembered.  After  his  death  a  monument 


MT.  27]        THE  NATIONAL  CRISIS  465 

to  his  praise  was  set  up  in  these  resolutions  of  the  Bethel 
Literary  and  Historical  Association  of  Washington,  D.  C., 
which  may  be  introduced  here  as  showing  more  distinctly  the 
nature  and  value  of  the  service  he  had  rendered  than  any 
contemporary  document :  — 

Resolved,  That  we  the  members  of  the  Bethel  Literary  and 
Historical  Association  of  Washington,  D.  C.,  spread  upon  our 
minutes  the  sense  of  the  great  loss  that  has  come  to  them  in  the 
death  of  that  eminent  servant  of  God,  the  Right  Reverend 
Phillips  Brooks,  Bishop  of  Massachusetts. 

It  will  be  the  pride  and  duty  of  others  to  elaborate  in  stately 
and  measured  words  a  eulogy  of  this  saint  and  scholar,  humani- 
tarian and  great  preacher;  to  portray  his  many  high  and  great 
qualities.  Be  it  ours  to  bring  the  sobs  and  lamentations  of  a 
race  he  loved  so  well  and  served  so  faithfully,  and  thus  demon- 
strate that  however  destitute  we  may  be  of  the  higher  possession  of 
intellectual  gifts,  we  are  not  poor  in  that  loftiest  and  finest  atti- 
tude of  the  heart,  —  gratitude. 

We  thank  God  for  the  example  of  a  life  so  useful  and  exalted, 
and  so  thoroughly  consecrated  to  high  aims  and  noble  purposes, 
which  gave  him  that  clear  vision  to  see  the  right,  and  the  great 
heart  to  sympathize  with  the  woes  of  our  race ;  making  him  eyes 
to  the  blind  and  strength  to  the  feeble.  We  recall  with  thanks- 
giving his  noble  and  brave  words  for  freedom  and  enfranchisement 
in  the  dark  days  of  the  war,  the  prominent  part  he  took  in  open- 
ing to  us  the  door  of  the  street  cars  in  Philadelphia,  which  up  to 
that  time  had  been  closed  against  us,  and  this  at  the  risk  both  of 
personal  violence  and  social  ostracism. 

His  majestic  form  we  shall  no  longer  see,  his  kindly  voice  we 
shall  no  longer  hear,  yet  his  memory  will  be  to  us  strength  and 
inspiration  in  our  march  to  that  higher  manhood  and  wider 
influence  which  he  so  nobly  represented. 

As  Thanksgiving  Day  approached  in  1863,  Phillips  Brooks 
was  preparing  himself  to  give  expression  to  a  nation's  grati- 
tude, interpreting  the  nation  to  itself,  lifting  it  up  to  some 
higher  mount  of  vision  whence  it  could  discern  the  way  it 
had  been  led  through  the  years  of  darkness,  of  inexpressible 
agony,  and  of  untold  sacrifice.  This  capacity  for  being  great- 
est on  great  occasions  has  already  been  noted.  It  had  shown 
itself  in  college  when  he  gathered  himself  up  for  examina- 


466  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1863 

t ions  with  the  highest  success.  It  was  a  natural  peculiarity 
of  his  constitution  now  to  be  consecrated  to  the  highest  end. 
He  summoned  himself  and  examined  himself  as  the  day 
approached  in  order  to  be  ready  with  the  lesson  of  the  hour. 
Already  he  foresaw  the  beginning  of  the  end.  The  victory  of 
General  Meade  at  Gettysburg,  and  the  capture  of  Vicksburg 
by  General  Grant,  in  July,  followed  by  the  advance  of  Grant 
and  the  significant  results  at  Chattanooga  in  November, 
pointed  to  one  conclusion,  —  the  object  of  the  war  had  been 
really  gained,  however  long  the  time  which  must  elapse  before 
its  full  acknowledgment.  The  war  should  have  ended  here. 

Again  the  great  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  was  crowded  to 
its  utmost  capacity,  seats  were  placed  in  the  aisles  and  many 
were  standing,  as  the  preacher  announced  his  text:  " There- 
fore, behold,  the  days  come,  saith  the  Lord,  that  it  shall  no 
more  be  said,  The  Lord  liveth,  that  brought  up  the  children 
of  Israel  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt ;  but,  The  Lord  liveth,  that 
brought  up  the  children  of  Israel  from  the  land  of  the  north, 
and  from  all  the  lands  whither  he  had  driven  them :  and  I 
will  bring  them  again  into  their  land  that  I  gave  unto  their 
fathers  "  (Jeremiah  xvi.  14,  15).  The  next  day,  November 
27,  1863,  came  the  request  for  the  publication  of  the  sermon, 
signed  by  some  sixty  names  of  the  leading  citizens  of  Philadel- 
phia. It  was  immediately  issued  with  the  title  "  Our  Mercies 
of  Reoccupation."  There  are  some  features  of  this  sermon 
which  have  now  only  an  historical  interest,  but  even  in  treating 
these  the  sentences  glow  with  the  splendor  of  the  preacher's 
deep  conviction,  his  exuberant  vitality,  his  rich  imagination. 
He  could  not  refrain  from  mentioning  Bishop  Hopkins  by 
name,  his  Bible  argument  for  slavery,  and  also  the  clerical 
protest  against  it.  He  laments  that  the  Christian  church  did 
not  take  the  lead  in  the  protest  against  slavery.  "Year  after 
year  the  church  stood  back  while  they  who  fought  the  battle 
went  out  from  her,  and  the  whole  movement  against  slavery 
became  not  only  unchurchly  but  openly  infidel,  disowning  all 
interest  in  every  presentation  of  that  Christianity  of  whose 
spirit  and  operation  it  was  nevertheless  of  itself  the  legiti- 
mate result."  He  rejoices  that  in  the  Episcopal  Church,  the 


JET.  27]        THE  NATIONAL  CRISIS  467 

most  conservative  of  all  conservatisms,  the  clergy  of  the 
diocese  of  Pennsylvania  had  given  utterance  to  their  con- 
demnation of  the  Bible  argument  for  slavery  in  a  manner 
which  no  man  could  mistake. 

As  name  after  name  was  added  to  that  Protest,  as  the  assent 
came  in  so  unanimously  from  every  direction,  —  from  the  mission 
chapels  in  the  hills,  from  the  cathedral  churches  in  the  city,  from 
the  seats  of  our  schools  and  our  seminary,  and  above  all,  thank 
God,  from  the  honored  dignity  of  the  bishop's  chair  [Bt.  Rev. 
Alonzo  Potter],  made  dear  by  our  love  for  him,  who  we  pray  may 
long  sit  in  it  to  do  true  things  like  this,  —  it  seemed  to  me  as  if 
every  new  assent  wiped  from  the  vesture  of  the  church  we  love 
some  stain  of  her  long  compliance,  and  gave  promise  of  the  day 
when  she  shall  stand  up  in  her  perfect  and  unsullied  excellence, 
and,  wreathing  her  venerable  beauty  with  an  ever  fresh  and  ver- 
dant love  for  all  God's  truth,  be  such  a  church  as  there  is  not  in 
the  land. 

There  were  those  who  rejoiced  that  slavery  was  disappear- 
ing, but  "our  rejoicing,"  they  said,  "is  for  the  white  man; 
it  is  not  for  the  negro  we  care."  To  this  the  preacher 
replied :  — 

It  is  for  the  negro  we  care.  It  is  our  fault,  and  not  his,  that 
he  is  here.  It  is  our  fault,  inherited  from  the  fathers,  that  has 
kept  in  most  utter  bondage,  and  most  cruel  bondage  too,  genera- 
tion after  generation  of  men  who  have  proved  themselves  the  most 
patient,  long-suffering,  affectionate,  docile  race  of  servants  that 
ever  lived,  and  who  now,  in  the  little  glimmering  of  a  chance 
that  is  given  them,  are  standing  between  us  and  the  rebels,  fight- 
ing battles,  receiving  wounds,  dying  deaths,  that  belong  more  to 
us  than  to  them,  fighting  splendidly,  working  faithfully,  learning 
eagerly,  enduring  endlessly,  laying  hold  on  a  higher  life  with  an 
eagerness  that  has  no  parallel  in  savage  history. 

He  warns  his  congregation  against  the  fragments  of  old 
prejudices  still  clinging  about  them :  — 

Let  us  get  rid  of  these.  If  the  negro  is  a  man,  and  we  have 
freed  him  in  virtue  of  his  manhood,  what  consistency  or  honor  is 
it  which  still  objects  to  his  riding  down  the  street  in  the  same  car 
with  us  if  he  is  tired,  or  sitting  in  the  same  pew  with  us  if  he 
wants  to  worship  God?  Brethren,  the  world  is  not  all  saved  yet. 
There  are  a  few  things  still  that  "  ought  not  to  be. " 


468  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1863 

But  the  great  charm  of  the  sermon,  its  literary  power  as 
well  as  its  irresistible  human  appeal,  lay  in  the  application  of 
its  subject,  the  Mercies  of  Heoccupation.  The  preacher 
grasped  the  fundamental  principle  of  life,  which  gives  fasci- 
nation and  potency  to  the  world's  highest  literature,  that  the 
reoccupation,  after  the  loss  and  deprivation  with  its  accom- 
panying struggle  to  regain,  is  greater  than  was  the  first  occu- 
pation. He  applied  this  truth  in  various  ways. 

When  this  war  began  you  know  how  heavy  the  air  was  with 
gloomy  prophecies  of  the  rain  that  was  to  come  upon  us  here  at 
home  in  the  derangement  of  labor,  in  the  scarceness  of  supplies, 
in  the  stoppage  of  business,  in  the  insecurity  of  property.  The 
war  is  almost  three  years  old,  and  industry  was  never  richer, 
homes  were  never  happier,  trade  never  paid  so  well,  harvests 
never  crowded  the  bursting  barns  more  fully  than  in  the  abundant 
prosperity  of  this  battle-autumn.  .  .  .  This  prosperity  is  not  like 
other  prosperity.  ...  It  has  made  many  a  man,  careless  and 
utterly  thoughtless  before,  take  his  unexpected  fortune  with  some- 
thing like  reverence,  as  if  he  took  it  directly  out  of  the  open  hand 
of  the  Almighty.  This  is  the  first  reoccupation.  We  enter  this 
year  into  our  barns  of  plenty,  and  so  much  of  the  solemnity  of 
the  time  clings  about  them  that  we  tread  their  floors  as  if  we 
trod  a  church's  aisle.  ...  I  know  the  exceptions  as  well  as  you 
do,  —  the  sickening  frivolity,  it  is  worse  than  that,  the  foolhardy 
impiety,  that  is  daring  to  desecrate  these  solemn  times  with  the 
flaunting  of  its  selfish  finery  and  the  wretched  display  of  its  new- 
made  money.  Every  dollar  made  in  these  war  times  ought  to  be 
sacred.  A  man  who  is  coining  money  out  of  his  country's  agony 
must  feel  like  a  very  Gehazi.  Is  it  a  time  to  receive  money  and 
to  receive  garments  and  oliveyards  and  vineyards  and  sheep  and 
oxen?  .  .  .  But  there  is  a  better  side, —  there  is  great  sanctifica- 
tion  of  ordinary  life  and  ordinary  blessing  by  the  extraordinary 
light  that  falls  on  them  out  of  the  supreme  interests  of  our  time. 
The  best  prosperity  of  our  country  in  years  to  come  will  be  that 
which  has  shared  in  the  transfiguration  of  these  sacred  times,  .  .  . 
which  has  roused  itself,  as,  when  God  had  been  speaking  words  of 
blessing  to  him  in  Bethel,  Jacob  waked  out  of  his  sleep,  and  said, 
" Surely  the  Lord  is  in  this  place,  and  I  knew  it  not." 

He  turns  to  the  reoccupation  of  the  national  territory.  He 
thinks  it  strange  that  men  should  talk  of  the  slowness  or 
ineffectiveness  of  the  war  in  view  of  what  has  been  gained  by 
the  victories  of  the  past  year.  "It  is  hard  to  keep  up  with 


.  27]        THE  NATIONAL   CRISIS  469 

telegrams  that  tell  us  day  by  day  of  the  progressive  occupa- 
tion by  the  power  of  the  government.  .  .  .  The  great  river, 
which  is  the  lordly  West,  flows  open  with  the  light  of  the 
Union  on  it  from  source  to  sea.  .  .  .  The  vast  domain  west 
of  the  Mississippi  with  all  its  untold  possibilities;  those  two 
States,  Kentucky  and  Tennessee,  constituting  the  keystone  of 
our  broad  arch,  the  sweep  of  Union  victory  has  reclaimed  for- 
ever to  freedom.  ...  In  our  own  fair  State  we  have  a  tale  of 
reoccupation  too  to  tell.  The  silent  graves  on  that  hill  front 
at  Gettysburg  are  voiceful  with  the  promise  that,  come  what 
will,  our  Northern  soil  has  felt  the  last  footprint  of  the 
oppressor  and  invader.  .  .  .  This  reoccupation  is  to  be 
greater,  to  make  the  region  which  it  gives  us  more  distinctly 
our  own,  than  it  was  by  the  first  occupation.  The  nation  is 
just  coming  to  its  inheritance.  .  .  .  Those  who  come  after 
us  will  look  back  and  see  that  the  work  of  this  year  was  of 
greater  moment  in  the  history  of  the  world  than  that  of  any 
revolutionary  year.  They  will  see  that  those  years  inevitably 
came  to  be  nothing  without  the  completing  process  of  these." 

But  infinitely  more  important  than  the  mere  reoccupation  of 
territory  is  the  resumption  by  this  American  people  in  a  higher 
sense,  the  full  occupation  of  the  government  of  their  fathers,  the 
reentrance  into  the  principles  and  fundamental  truths  of  the  nation- 
ality which  they  inherited,  but  which  up  to  the  beginning  of  this 
war  they  had  not  begun  worthily  to  occupy  and  use.  .  .  .  More 
than  fourscore  years  ago  this  nation  declared  itself  free  and  inde- 
pendent, —  the  new  ground  of  a  new  experiment  in  national,  social, 
and  individual  life.  .  .  .  How  very  partially  that  bright  announce- 
ment has  been  fulfilled.  We  have  never  half  claimed  our  inde- 
pendence. In  our  timid  regard  for  foreign  opinion,  in  our  blind 
regard  for  foreign  methods,  ...  we  have  only  very  slightly 
made  our  own  the  high  privilege  of  independent  life.  Believe 
me,  it  will  not  be  the  least  of  the  blessings  that  God  send  us,  if  by 
any  means,  by  a  development  of  our  own  powers,  by  new  exigen- 
cies leading  us  into  the  necessity  of  untried  methods,  by  the  indi- 
viduality of  suffering,  ...  by  the  terrible  disappointment  which 
discovers  the  shallowness  of  loud-mouthed  European  philanthropy, 
by  the  selfishness  of  the  old  worlds  that  will  not,  or  the  blindness 
of  old  worlds  that  cannot,  see  how  grand  and  holy  a  task  a  younger 
world  is  called  to  do,  —  if  by  any  means  He  gives  us  out  of  the 
isolation  of  our  national  struggle  a  larger  entrance  into  the  inde- 


47o  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1863 

pendent  life,  the  separate  and  characteristic  development  of  gov- 
ernment, art,  science,  letters,  practical  religion,  and  social  charac- 
ter, which  is  the  wide  domain  into  which  He  led  our  nation,  and 
whose  splendid  size  it  has  taken  us  almost  a  hundred  years  to  find. 

There  is  another  reoccupation  in  the  circumstance  that 
party  lines  in  the  republic  have  been  broken,  and  that  loyalty 
to  the  country  has  taken  the  place  of  all  other  issues.  But 
the  highest  of  all  the  reoccupations  which  by  God's  grace  we 
have  been  permitted  to  make  this  year  is  the  reoccupation  of 
the  disused  duties  and  privileges  of  justice,  liberty,  and  hu- 
man brotherhood. 

You  do  not  expect  me,  I  do  not  think  you  want  me,  to  stand 
here  to-day  without  thanking  God  that  the  institution  of  African 
shivery  in  our  beloved  hind  is  one  big  year  nearer  to  its  inevitable 
death  than  it  was  last  Thanksgiving  Day.  On  that  day  certain 
hopeful  words  were  spoken  from  this  pulpit  which  groped  about 
in  the  darkness  and  timidly  thought  they  saw  the  signs  of  light. 
To-day,  will  any  man  or  woman  blame  us,  as  we  stand  in  the 
anticipation  of  certainty,  and  cry  above  the  opened  grave  of 
slavery,  that  only  waits  till  its  corpse  be  brought  to  it  with  the 
decency  its  reverend  age  demands,  Thank  God !  thank  God !  the 
hateful  thing  is  dead !  I  am  speaking  solemnly ;  I  am  speaking 
earnestly ;  I  am  speaking  as  a  man  whose  heart  is  too  glad  for 
utterance,  in  the  washing  from  his  country's  robe,  even  though  it 
be  in  the  red  water  of  her  children's  blood,  of  such  a  stain  as  she 
has  worn  before  the  nations  through  these  years  of  her  melancholy 
beauty.  What  has  done  it  ?  Not  the  Proclamation  of  hist  New 
Tear's  Day,  though  we  ought  to  thank  God,  as  not  the  least  mercy 
of  these  times,  that  we  have  had  a  man  to  lead  us,  so  honest  and 
so  true,  so  teachable  at  the  lips  of  the  Almighty,  as  to  write 
those  immortal  words  that  made  a  race  forever  free.  Not  any 
public  document,  not  any  public  act,  has  done  the  work ;  nothing 
but  the  hand  of  God,  leading  back  His  chosen  people  into  the  hind 
of  universal  freedom,  into  which  he  led  the  fathers,  and  out  of 
which  the  children  went  so  woefully  astray.  Which  God  is  greater, 
—  He  who  led  the  fathers  in,  or  He  who  leads  the  children 
back?  At  any  rate,  the  Lord  grant  us  to  be  truer  to  the  new 
charter  of  emancipation  than  (we  own  it  with  shamefacedness  and 
contrition)  we  have  been  to  the  declaration  of  freedom  and  human 
equality  which  the  fathers  wrote. 

This  analysis,  these  extracts,  do  scant  justice  to  a  sermon 


.  27]        THE  NATIONAL   CRISIS  471 

which  was  a  masterpiece  of  inspired  oratory.  The  mighty 
torrent  of  the  feelings,  the  impassioned  will  lashing  itself 
against  its  barriers  in  order  to  bring  up  the  congregation  to 
its  own  high  vantage  ground,  the  clear  intellect  which  dis- 
cerned the  issues  of  life,  all  these  conspired,  working  at  their 
best  and  fullest,  to  make  the  utterance  great.  The  soul  of 
the  preacher  expands  beyond  itself  to  become  the  mouthpiece 
of  the  national  life.  He  goes  outside  his  own  personality,  or 
rather  identifies  it  with  the  soul  of  the  nation.  In  the  ambi- 
tion, in  the  capacity  thus  to  identify  himself  with  a  life  that 
was  larger  than  his  own,  lay  the  foundations  of  the  greatness 
of  Phillips  Brooks. 

The  sermon  was  at  once  recognized  as  something  more 
than  a  sermon,  an  event  in  the  history  of  the  tunes.  The 
knowledge  of  it  spread  widely  and  rapidly,  forging  another 
link  in  the  chain  which  bound  the  country  to  the  man  in  love 
and  reverence.  But  from  this  public  recognition  of  the  ser- 
mon one  may  turn  aside  for  a  moment  to  follow  its  effect  in 
the  home  circle,  where  its  echo  resounded  in  quick  succession. 
" I  want,"  wrote  his  father,  "a  dozen  copies  of  that  sermon. 
Don't  let  your  modesty  stand  in  the  way;  I  want  them  and 
at  least  that  number."  Happy  and  proud  in  the  conscious- 
ness that  he  had  now  evidence  indisputable  of  the  greatness 
of  his  son  as  a  citizen  as  well  as  a  preacher,  the  father  sent 
the  sermon  to  his  kinsfolk  and  acquaintances.  He  had  only 
heard  of  it  when  he  asked  that  copies  should  be  sent  him,  and 
had  not  read  it.  After  he  had  read  it,  he  wrote,  "  I  should 
have  two  years  ago  repudiated  much  of  its  doctrine,  but  now 
go  almost  the  whole  of  it."  Those  to  whom  he  sent  it  were 
not  all  of  one  mind  about  its  doctrine.  He  collected  their 
testimony  and  sent  it  to  his  son :  — 

Dr.  Reynolds  says  he  has  read  it  aloud  twice,  and  admired  it. 
He  says  it  has  converted  his  wife,  as  she  has  always  thought  the 
war  was  unnecessary  and  had  not  viewed  it  so  much  in  regard  to 
the  sin  of  slavery.  But  she  is  convinced  by  your  argument. 
Wendell  Phillips  says  it  is  "first-rate."  He  has  read  it  once,  and 
was  to  take  it  again  to-day  as  his  Christmas  sermon.  "Capital." 
he  says,  and  he  was  glad  to  see  the  names  of  Phillips  and  Brooks 
so  well  connected  in  a  good  cause.  Edward  Everett  says  — 


472  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1863 

what  ?  A  friend  had  previously  said  he  liked  it  for  its  manly 
and  independent  tone  and  its  argument,  although  it  went  further 
than  he  could  go  in  some  respects.  He  spoke  very  handsomely 
about  it.  When  I  went  home  I  found  a  note  from  him,  of  which 
I  will  give  you  a  copy.  .  .  . 

Scionta  STREET,  December  24, 1868. 

MY  DEAR  Sift,  —  I  beg  you  to  accept  my  best  thanks  for  the 
copy  of  your  son's  sermon  on  Thanksgiving  Day,  which  you  have 
kindly  sent  me.  I  heard  much  of  it  while  in  Philadelphia  from 
some  members  of  his  church,  and  the  perusal  of  it  has  more  than 
confirmed  the  expectations  of  it  raised  by  them.  With  sincere 
congratulations  to  you  and  Mrs.  Brooks  on  his  rapidly  growing 
usefulness  and  fame,  I  remain,  dear  sir, 

Your  kinsman  and  friend, 

EDWARD  KVKKKTT. 

I  sent  one  to  my  friend  Robert  C.  Winthrop,  also.  So  much 
for  the  sermon ;  not  quite  yet,  however ;  Dr.  Dalton  [a  classmate 
of  Phillips  Brooks  at  Harvard]  is  extravagantly  well  pleased  with 
it,  and  says  he  shall  buy  a  lot  to  send  to  his  friends. 

It  was  announced  in  the  last  "  Witness "  that  you  were  to 
preach  at  Tremont  Temple  next  Sunday  morning.  I  wish  it  were 
so,  and  so  do  many  others,  if  I  was  to  judge  from  the  inquiries 
made.  Yesterday  the  bishop  sent  his  warden  (Mr.  Dexter)  to  me, 
to  say  he  wanted  you  to  preach  all  day  at  Trinity.  I  had  to  dis- 
appoint them  all. 

Christmas  afternoon,  1863. 

Among  other  letters  acknowledging  the  sermon  was  one 
from  the  Rev.  N.  L.  Frothingham,  pastor  of  the  First 
Church  in  Boston,  then  situated  on  Chauncy  Street.  He 
and  Mr.  Everett  were  kinsmen  in  the  same  degree  to  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Brooks,  both  having  married  sisters,  who  were 
daughters  of  Peter  Chardon  Brooks.  For  a  year  or  two  after 
their  marriage  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brooks  had  continued  to  attend 
his  church. 

January  7,  1864. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  BROOKS,  —  I  have  just  been  listening  to  the 
"Mercies  of  Reoccupation, "  a  rich  and  noble  discourse  that 
justifies  all  the  high  praise  everywhere  accorded  to  the  preacher. 

I  had  long  been  desirous  of  having  a  "taste  of  his  quality,** 
and  here  is  a  full  and  great  draught. 


MT.  27]        THE  NATIONAL  CRISIS  473 

I  cannot  help  writing  this  line  to  congratulate  you  and  your 
good  wife  in  having  such  a  son  to  rejoice  in. 

Yours  very  truly,      N.   L.   FKOTHINGIIAM. 

Another  kinsman,  Dr.  Nathaniel  Hall,  pastor  of  a  church 
in  Dorchester,  also  writes  a  letter  of  congratulation :  — 

DOKCHESTKK,  December  24,  1863. 

MY  DEAR  COUSIN,  —  I  thank  you  for  allowing  me  the  privilege 
and  pleasure  of  reading  your  son's  sermon.  I  have  just  finished 
the  reading  of  it,  and  I  cannot  refrain  from  expressing  to  you 
something  of  the  high  gratification,  I  may  say  the  admiration 
which  have  followed  from  it.  My  heart  is  in  fullest  sympathy 
with  it  all:  that  you  can  believe.  And  it  is  truly  a  noble  utter- 
ance, full  of  truth,  full  of  beauty,  full  of  true  eloquence  and  a 
holier  than  patriotic  fire.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  I  like  it, 
how  much  I  feel  like  thanking  and  honoring  in  my  heart  him  who 
thus  feels  and  speaks.  Heaven's  blessing  be  upon  him  more  and 
more,  and  may  his  dear  life  be  spared  to  be  more  and  more  the 
blessing  which  I  am  sure  it  must  be  to  others.  It  is  the  first 
taste  of  him  (so  to  speak)  I  have  had,  though  I  have  heard 
through  others  of  his  gifts  and  graces.  I  can  well  believe,  from 
this  word  you  have  kindly  caused  to  reach  me,  all  that  I  have 
heard.  It  has  the  savor  of  true  life,  and  of  a  holy,  consecrated 
power.  .  .  .  Give  my  love  to  your  good  wife,  and  please  accept, 
both  of  you,  the  congratulations  and  good  wishes  which  belong  to 
this  holy  season  from, 

Your  affectionate  cousin, 

NATHANIEL  HALL. 

The  Hon.  Robert  C.  Winthrop  acknowledges  the  sermon, 
but  to  him  as  to  Mr.  Everett  it  was  hardly  the  utterance  with 
which  he  could  sympathize.  His  letter  expresses  the  hope 
that  it  will  not  be  long  before  Phillips  Brooks  comes  to 
Boston  as  the  rector  of  one  of  its  churches.  At  a  later  time 
they  were  to  stand  in  the  intimate  relations  of  a  sacred 
friendship  when  this  hope  should  be  realized.  "Oh,  that  we 
had  him  at  St.  Paul's ! "  was  the  exclamation  of  another 
reader  of  the  sermon. 

The  notices  of  the  sermon  in  the  newspapers  outside  of 
Philadelphia,  in  New  York  and  Boston,  while  giving  an 
abstract  of  it  and  expressing  admiration,  agree  in  comment- 
ing upon  the  fact  that  such  a  sermon  should  have  been  deliv- 


474  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1863 

•  •iv. I  by  au  Episcopal  clergyman,  and  in  the  wealthiest,  most 
fashionable  church  in  Philadelphia.  One  attentive  observer 
who  was  studying  the  effect  of  the  sermon  mentions,  as  a 
circumstance  to  be  noted,  that  the  congregation  left  the 
church  in  subdued  silence.  If  it  had  been  any  one  else  but 
Phillips  Brooks  it  might  have  been  called  an  heroic,  coura- 
geous act.  But  he  seems  to  have  been  under  no  such  impres- 
sion. It  was  not  he  who  had  offered  himself  for  voluntary 
martyrdom,  with  the  possibility  of  being  driven  from  his 
post.  The  honors  of  martyrdom  belonged  to  others,  minis- 
ters in  country  parishes  or  in  weaker  city  churches  where 
tenure  of  position  was  not  strong,  who  spoke  out  their  minds 
and  then  saw  their  congregations  depleted  or  were  called 
upon  to  resign.  That  was  not  to  be  his  fate. 

The  sermon  had  a  large  circulation,  being  placed  for  sale 
in  the  principal  bookstores  of  the  large  cities.  In  a  letter 
to  his  brother  he  gives  the  reasons  which  led  him  to  print 
it :  first,  because  of  the  list  of  men  who  asked  for  it.  But 
"besides  this,  I  found  myself  so  misreported,  represented  to 
have  said  such  horrid,  radical  things,  that  I  thought  I  had 
better  print  in  self-defence  to  show  how  very  moderate  I  was. 
Of  course,  as  we  all  say,  the  sermon  was  written  'wholly  with- 
out view  to  publication.' ' 

Saturday,  November  28,  1863. 

1  )KA  it  WILLIAM,  —  So  you  think  my  letters  are  not  as  jolly  as 
they  used  to  be,  —  not  so  jolly  as  Fred's  are  now  ?  I  presume 
yon  're  right.  I  used  to  have  the  spirit  to  go  at  a  letter  as  a 
literary  performance  and  try  to  write  a  good  one.  Now  you  have 
just  to  take  what  there  is  left  of  me  after  my  work  is  over  and 
the  sermon  done.  Still  I  don't  think  I  am  any  less  jolly  than  I 
used  to  be;  you  don't  find  me  so  in  summer,  do  you?  I  am  per- 
fectly happy,  and  everything  goes  with  such  lovely  smoothness  that 
I  should  be  a  rascal  to  be  anything  but  happy. 

Hurrah  for  Grant !  What  a  magnificent  victory  we  have  had 
at  Chattanooga.  It  lighted  up  our  Thanksgiving  Day  gloriously. 
Now  if  Meade  only  does  n't  get  into  mischief,  and  if  Bragg  is 
really  scattered,  then  the  fight  is  over ;  a  little  more  fighting  per- 
haps, but  we  see  daylight,  and  God  be  praised !  Thanksgiving 
was  a  lovely  day  and  everybody  in  good  spirits.  Everybody  went 
to  church.  Ours  was  crowded,  pews  and  aisles.  I  dined  at  Mr. 


MT.  27]        THE  NATIONAL  CRISIS  475 

Cooper's,  and  went  in  the  evening  to  a  party  given  to  General 
Wild,  a  Massachusetts  man,  and  a  splendid  fellow.  Before  next 
Thanksgiving  the  thing  will  be  over,  and  Uncle  Abe  will  have 
been  elected  for  another  term. 

The  fall  of  1863  was  a  productive  one  in  sermon-writing, 
despite  the  growing  multiplicity  of  engagements  and  the  ex- 
haustion waiting  upon  public  speeches,  which,  while  they  cre- 
ated with  apparent  ease  such  boundless  enthusiasm,  were  yet 
accompanied  by  inevitable  reaction.  Only  rarely  do  we  get 
hints  of  his  reading,  but  these  are  important.  He  mentions 
without  comment  Kenan's  "Vie  de  Jesus,"  and  he  is  study- 
ing the  writings  of  Pascal.  That  he  was  not  quite  satisfied 
with  himself,  or  was  inwardly  groaning  under  the  burden, 
may  be  inferred  from  a  letter  where  he  gives  a  full  account  of 
a  week's  work  in  order  to  show  how  his  time  was  occupied:  — 

1533  LOCUST  STBEET,  October  31, 1863. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  If  there  is  any  cheerfulness  in  my  letter  to- 
day, it  will  have  to  come  from  inside,  and  not  outside  the  house. 
It  is  raining  as  hard  as  Philadelphia  only  knows  how  to  rain,  and 
all  the  curtains  up  hardly  give  me  light  enough  to  write  by. 
Fortunately  my  sermon  is  done,  or  it  would  be  hard  to  keep  it 
from  turning  into  a  very  gloomy  homily  on  such  a  day  as  this. 
What  shall  I  write  about  ?  Suppose  I  give  you  my  biography  for 
a  week,  so  that  you  can  know  pretty  much  what  all  my  weeks  are. 
Well,  Monday  morning  I  got  up  pretty  tired  with  Sunday's  work, 
and  went  down  town  after  breakfast,  as  I  generally  do  nowadays, 
to  do  up  my  limited  business,  paying  bills,  shopping,  etc.  At 
one  o'clock  I  went  to  one  of  our  hospitals  to  see  some  Boston  men 
who  had  found  me  out,  and  sent  to  me  to  help  get  their  dis- 
charges; sick  and  wounded  they  needed  help  and  sympathy  bad 
enough.  Then  all  the  afternoon  I  went  about  making  calls  in  my 
parish,  and  spent  the  evening  studying  in  my  room.  Tuesday  I 
had  a  funeral  to  attend,  which  took  me  almost  all  the  morning ; 
then  I  went,  as  I  always  do  on  Tuesdays,  and  dined  at  Mr.  Cooper's 
with  Strong  and  Richards,  and  spent  the  evening  at  Dr.  Mitch- 
ell's. Wednesday  was  my  morning  to  receive  visitors  at  my 
study  in  the  church  on  all  sorts  of  business,  religious  and  secular, 
from  men  begging  money  to  men  joining  the  church.  Then  I 
went  out  and  made  some  more  calls,  and  in  the  evening  made  an 
address  to  a  Christian  Work  Association  in  St.  Philip's  (Mr. 
Cooper's)  Church.  Thursday  I  went  to  work  on  a  sermon  which 


476  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1863 

I  am  to  preach  to-morrow  night  before  the  Bishop  White  Prayer 
Book  Society.  It  did  n't  go  very  well,  and  I  labored  over  it  all 
the  forenoon.  I  went  and  dined  at  Mr.  Ashhurst's,  and  in  the 
evening,  after  making  one  call,  settled  down  before  my  fire  and 
read  and  studied  till  twelve  o'clock.  Friday  I  went  at  the  ser- 
mon again,  and,  with  lots  of  interruptions  which  kept  taking  me 
away,  worked  till  dinner  time.  After  dinner  made  a  few  calls, 
and  went  and  took  tea  with  a  new  parishioner,  whose  wife,  by  the 
way,  is  a  sister  of  Mr.  Whitney,  the  superintendent  of  St.  Paul's 
Sunday-school  in  your  city,  a  Mrs.  Lewis.  Home  by  nine  o'clock, 
and  at  the  sermon  again  for  an  hour.  This  morning,  being  sick 
and  tired  of  the  poor  old  sermon,  I  got  up  and  finished  it  off 
before  breakfast,  and  since  breakfast  have  got  ready  my  lecture 
for  to-night,  and  my  sermon  for  the  children  to-morrow  after- 
noon. Pepper  that  over  with  lots  of  people  coming  to  see  me  on 
important  business,  and  you  have  my  week's  work.  It  is  about  a 
type  of  all,  a  quiet,  humdrum,  and  not  unpleasant  life,  with  an 
extra  sensation  now  and  then.  All  this  letter  about  myself! 
You  must  excuse  it,  but  you  told  me  once  to  write  about  myself, 
and  so  it  is  your  own  fault. 

Among  the  other  demands  upon  his  time,  not  here  alluded 
to,  was  the  attendance  upon  frequent  meetings  of  a  committee 
appointed  to  prepare  a  Sunday-school  service  book.  The 
interest  which  he  felt  in  children  and  in  his  various  Sunday- 
schools  led  him  to  appreciate  the  importance  of  such  a  task. 
In  the  singing  of  children  he  took  great  delight.  It  was  part 
of  his  duty  as  a  member  of  this  committee  to  pass  judgment 
not  only  upon  the  hymns  to  be  selected  for  the  new  service 
book,  but  also  on  the  tunes,  and  to  the  importance  of  both 
these  requirements  he  was  alive.  However  limited  may  have 
been  his  knowledge  of  music,  he  knew  what  he  liked,  and  was 
not  slow  in  expressing  his  opinion.  Mr.  Lewis  H.  Redner 
of  Philadelphia,  who  was  the  organist  of  Holy  Trinity  Church 
as  well  as  a  personal  friend  of  its  rector,  writes  of  Mr.  Brooks 
in  this  connection :  — 

I  don't  think  that  Brooks  had  any  theoretical  knowledge  of 
music,  neither  was  he  much  of  a  singer;  but  when  a  strain  of 
music  pleased  him  it  impressed  him  so  that  he  was  constantly 
singing  it.  He  was  a  member  of  the  committee  appointed  by 
Bishop  Alonzo  Potter  in  compiling  the  first  Sunday-school  Chant 


XT.  27]        THE   NATIONAL   CRISIS  477 

and  Tune  Book.  The  committee  met  regularly  at  my  house  for 
two  winters,  selecting  hymns,  tunes,  chants,  etc.  Brooks  used  to 
loll  in  a  big  chair  in  my  library,  reading  some  storybook,  and 
every  now  and  then  he  would  rouse  himself  up  at  a  certain  tune, 
and  say,  "I  like  that,"  and  the  tune  that  Brooks  liked  was  gen- 
erally a  good  one.  When  the  little  book  was  published  he  was 
over  the  water.  I  mailed  him  a  copy  of  the  book,  and  he  wrote 
me  afterwards  that  he  walked  around  the  walls  of  Jerusalem,  sing- 
ing from  it  Miss  Mulock's  Christmas  carol  "God  rest  ye,  Merry 
Gentlemen  "  to  the  tune  I  had  composed. 

I  differ  with  those  who  think  that  Brooks  was  insensible  to  the 
charm  of  music.  A  man  of  his  heart  and  genius  could  not  be, 
but  he  was  fond  of  simple  music.  I  remember  meeting  him  in 
London  in  the  summer  of  1866,  and  he  was  wild  with  delight 
over  the  two  new  hymns  and  tunes  just  published  and  being  sung, 
"Jerusalem  the  Golden"  and  "Holy,  Holy,  Holy,  Lord  God 
Almighty." 

However  fully  his  time  might  be  occupied,  or  his  mind 
absorbed,  and  his  imagination  fascinated  by  the  rich  sugges- 
tiveness  of  his  life  there  was  no  diminution  of  interest  in  his 
Boston  home.  He  writes  still  as  if  a  boy  in  the  family  with 
all  the  others,  as  though  neither  death  nor  absence  made  any 
change  in  the  dear  familiar  circle.  Great  changes  were 
gradually  taking  place  there.  George  would  no  longer  re- 
turn. Frederick  had  left,  and  the  mother  had  been  called 
again  to  her  loving  but  painful  task  of  packing  the  boxes  in 
preparation  for  his  departure.  Arthur  was  now  in  his  first 
year  at  Harvard.  Only  John,  the  youngest  son,  was  left  at 
home.  It  was  consolation  indeed  that  all  the  children  were 
doing  well  and  sustaining  the  honor  of  the  family.  "We 
are  a  small  figure  indeed, "  so  writes  his  father  to  Phillips, 
"since  Fred  left;  only  Will  and  Mr.  John  at  the  table.  It 
is  lonesome  indeed  after  our  long  table  we  have  enjoyed  so 
many  years.  We  look  forward  now  to  Sundays  when  Arthur 
comes  home.  By  the  way,  I  will  not  tell  you  what  Professor 
Peabody  says  of  him  for  fear  you  and  Fred  would  be  jealous." 

Saturday  evening,  December  5,  1868. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  feel  moved  to  write  you  a  little  letter  to- 
night, not  because  I  have  anything  very  particular  to  say,  but 
because  I  was  so  glad  to  get  yours  the  other  day,  and  would  like 


478  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1863 

just  as  soon  as  you  please  to  get  another.  Fred  seems  to  have 
completely  cut  me  out  of  any  epistolary  reputation  that  I  used  to 
have,  and  I  suppose  I  must  submit.  I  should  like  to  see  some  of 
those  wonderful  letters  of  his.  Do  keep  them  and  have  them 
hound.  I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  such  good  accounts  of  Fred.  Mr. 
Lewis,  the  manager  of  our  branch  of  the  Sanitary  Commission,  was 
in  Washington  the  other  day,  and  told  me  on  his  return  that  he 
had  seen  Fred,  and  that  he  was  hard  at  work.  He  said  his  work 
was  the  most  troublesome  and  vexatious  that  fell  in  the  way  of 
the  Commission,  and  that  he  was  doing  it  with  a  great  faithfulness 
and  acceptance,  in  other  words,  I  suppose,  just  as  a  Brooks  Boy 
ought.  Good  for  him.  I  came  pretty  near  going  down  there 
this  week  on  the  Freedmen's  Committee,  but  was  kept  at  home  to 
attend  to  a  wedding,  and  some  one  else  took  my  place. 

Henry  Ward  Beecher  has  been  here  this  week,  and  spoke  to  a 
tremendous  crowd  at  the  Academy  of  Music.  I  went  of  course. 
It  was  very  curious  to  hear  him  applauded  and  see  him  petted  by 
all  the  old  fogies  of  Philadelphia.  Mr.  Everett  has  been  here 
too,  dividing  his  time  between  the  loyalists  and  the  Copperheads 
with  beautiful  impartiality.  I  was  invited  to  meet  him  on  Thurs- 
day evening  at  tea  at  Mr.  Hazlehurst's. 

All  is  going  on  at  this  church  as  usual.  One  pew  offered  for 
sale  immediately  after  Thanksgiving  Day,  and  four  applicants  to 
buy  it  at  once.  We  are  weeding  out  fast,  and  I  have  now  an 
almost  entirely  loyal  church  with  not  an  inch  of  room  to  rent. 

The  month  of  December  brought  to  Phillips  Brooks  more 
than  its  share  of  anniversaries  to  be  kept.  After  Thanks- 
giving came  his  own  birthday  on  December  13,  and  the 
birthday  of  George  followed  on  the  18th.  Christmas  was 
the  great  day  of  the  year.  But  as  if  all  this  did  not  suffice, 
he  added  the  night  of  December  31,  keeping  it  by  a  vigil 
in  the  church.  For  some  reasons  it  would  have  been  well  if 
he  had  not  counted  so  closely  the  revolving  years.  To  one 
who  hoarded  life  as  the  richest  of  treasures,  there  was  danger 
of  too  intense  and  ever  present  consciousness  of  its  flight. 
There  was  a  mixture  of  mirth  with  the  memory  of  old  associa- 
tions as  he  came  up  to  the  festivals.  But  the  mirth  predomi- 
nated while  the  sadness  lurked  in  the  rear.  Yet  he  noted 
too  curiously  whether  the  celebration  of  the  feast  was  ade- 
quate, whether  he  had  risen  to  or  fallen  short  of  its  demands. 
There  is  a  touch  of  depression  in  these  following  letters  as  in 


MT.  27]        THE  NATIONAL   CRISIS  479 

others  which  have  preceded  them,  on  which  his  brother  had 
commented.  They  said  at  home  that  Frederick  was  writing 
the  more  interesting  letters.  For  some  reason  he  was  not  at 
ease  in  his  mind. 

Monday  morning,  December  14,  1863. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  I  am  twenty-eight  years  old.  The  melan- 
choly day  is  over!  I  stood  it  as  well  as  I  could,  but  it  depressed 
me  of  course,  and  I  feel  a  little  exhausted  after  it  this  morning. 
Still  I  had  a  very  nice  day  yesterday.  Dr.  Vinton  spent  the  day 
with  me  and  preached  twice,  and  did  his  very  best  both  times.  I 
never  saw  him  in  better  case  or  heard  him  preach  better.  He  is 
spending  a  few  days  here.  ...  I  had  my  salary  raised  the  other 
day.  It  is  to  be  $4000,  commencing  with  the  1st  of  January. 
The  parish  has  been  gradually  getting  stronger  and  stronger,  and 
I  am  glad  they  feel  able  to  do  their  duty  by  their  beloved  rector, 
at  a  time  when  living  is  so  high. 

On  the  18th  of  December  he  wrote  to  his  father:  "The 
approach  of  Christmas  is  making  me  homesick.  Oh,  that  I 
could  be  with  you.  Let  us  remember  our  last  Christmas 
together  two  years  ago.  .  .  .  To-day  is  George's  birthday. 
Not  a  day  passes  that  I  do  not  think  of  George.  Oh,  to  be 
as  good  as  he  was  and  some  day  to  be  what  he  is." 

Saturday,  December  26, 1863. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  How  did  your  Christmas  go  off  ?  Ours  was 
splendid.  I  gave  Mother  the  account  of  it  yesterday  down  to 
dinner  time.  I  dined  and  spent  the  evening  quietly  at  Mr. 
Cooper's,  with  Richards  and  Strong.  To-night  I  have  a  Christ- 
mas tree  for  the  children  of  a  little  negro  Sunday-school  which  I 
started  a  few  squares  from  my  church.  We  have  got  about  a 
hundred  of  the  funniest  little  darkies  there  that  you  ever  saw.  I 
wish  you  could  be  with  us.  They  sing  like  larks.  Speaking  of 
birds,  I  had  a  cuckoo  clock  sent  me  for  a  Christmas  present.  Do 
you  know  what  they  are?  It  has  two  doors  just  over  the  clock 
face,  and  whenever  the  hour  strikes,  two  little  cuckoos  appear  and 
tune  up.  It 's  very  pretty.  Next  week  we  have  a  big  festival 
in  church  for  all  our  Sunday-school,  and  are  expecting  a  great 
time.  I  am  glad  you  liked  my  sermon.  I  send  you  with  this  the 

criticism  on    it  of ,  one  of  our   great  Copperheads,    which 

appeared  in  the  "  Age  "  a  day  or  two  ago.  I  have  just  been  reading 
over  Dudley  Tyng's  famous  sermon  of  seven  years  ago.  What  a 
brave  thing  it  was  to  do!  Thank  God  anybody  can  do  it  now. 


480  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1863 

So  Christmas  passed,  and  then  came  watch  meeting  on  the 
last  day  of  the  year,  which  was  kept  at  Mr.  Cooper's  church, 
where  he  was  present  and  made  an  address.  The  deeper 
seriousness  in  the  tone  of  his  correspondence,  of  which  his 
brother  William  had  complained,  becomes  more  intelligible 
when  we  learn  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  resign  his 
charge  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  in  order  to  accept 
the  professorship  of  church  history  in  the  Philadelphia  Di- 
vinity School.  He  must  have  had  the  change  in  contempla- 
tion for  several  months,  although  no  allusions  are  made  to  it 
in  his  diary  or  in  his  letters.  While  Dr.  Vinton  was  in 
Philadelphia,  he  may  have  discussed  the  subject  with  him. 
The  first  allusion  occurs  in  a  letter  to  his  brother  Frederick, 
dated  December  20,  and  on  the  26th  he  mentioned  his 
resolution  as  formed  to  Mr.  Coffin  his  senior  warden :  — 

I  have  decided  [he  writes  to  Frederick],  although  the  decision 
is  not  mentioned  yet  to  any  one,  and  you  are  to  accept  it  in  perfect 
confidence  and  not  mention  it  to  any  one,  not  even  in  writing 
home,  to  give  up  my  parish,  and  take  the  professorship  of  eccle- 
siastical history  in  the  Divinity  School.  ...  I  shall  make  the 
change  in  a  month  or  two.  Remember,  you  are  not  to  mention  it 
to  anybody.  Let  me  hear  what  you  think  of  it. 


CHAPTER  XV 

1864 

CALL  TO  THE  PHILADELPHIA  DIVINITY  SCHOOL.  EXTRACTS 
FROM  NOTE-BOOK.  SPEECHES  IN  BEHALF  OF  NEGRO 
SUFFRAGE 

THE  election  to  the  chair  of  Ecclesiastical  History  in  the 
Philadelphia  Divinity  School  would  not  have  been  made,  it 
is  safe  to  say  so,  without  the  knowledge  of  Mr.  Brooks,  or 
if  the  trustees  of  the  school  had  not  been  encouraged  by  his 
tacit  approval.  Indeed,  it  is  not  impossible  that  he  should 
have  made  the  suggestion.  As  one  of  the  overseers  of  the 
school,  interested  in  its  work,  his  desire  in  the  matter  could 
hardly  fail  to  be  apparent.  The  subject  had  been  in  his 
mind  for  some  time  before  he  mentioned  it,  or  before  the  call 
was  formally  extended  to  him.  A  certain  unusual  soberness 
or  even  tone  of  depression  in  his  home  letters  indicates  that 
he  was  absorbed  with  the  gravity  of  some  great  decision. 
Upon  this  point,  therefore,  as  revealing  the  character  of 
Phillips  Brooks,  it  is  necessary  for  a  moment  to  dwell. 

It  must  be  assumed  that  he  knew  his  own  mind  when  he 
decided  to  accept  the  call.  At  this  moment  he  was  at  the 
height  of  his  popularity  and  success  in  Philadelphia;  his 
church  was  thronged  with  eager  hearers ;  no  cloud  so  big  as  a 
man's  hand  was  visible  on  his  horizon.  If  some  prominent 
citizens  had  left  his  church  because  of  his  anti-slavery  teach- 
ing, yet  many  others  were  waiting,  anxious  to  become  pur- 
chasers of  any  vacant  pews.  His  power  as  a  preacher,  or  as  a 
platform  speaker  on  special  religious  or  philanthropic  occa- 
sions, was  widely  recognized,  his  services  were  in  constant 
demand,  and  whenever  he  spoke  he  never  failed  to  rouse  the 
enthusiasm  of  his  audience  to  the  highest  pitch.  It  had 
become  almost  a  commonplace  in  the  newspaper  reports  to 


482  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1864 

Bay  that  the  speech  of  the  occasion  was  by  Phillips  Brooks. 
Everywhere  he  went,  there  was  a  strange  curiosity  to  see, 
as  well  as  to  hear  him.  Even  at  this  early  moment  he 
seems  to  have  taken  the  lustre  off  from  other  guests  or  speak- 
ers who  might  be  associated  with  him.  There  was  something 
strange  in  it  all,  and  difficult  to  be  accounted  for,  but  it  was 
very  real  and  genuine. 

When  we  ask,  then,  why  he  should  have  been  willing  to 
abandon  such  a  position  for  the  comparative  insignificance 
of  a  chair  in  a  theological  seminary,  just  starting  into  exist- 
ence, with  only  a  handful  of  students  and  where  a  meagre 
salary  was  offered,  hardly  more  than  a  third  of  what  he  was 
receiving,  we  have  asked  the  leading  question,  whose  answer 
must  give  us  the  man  as  he  really  was  in  himself,  and  not 
as  he  appeared  to  the  world.  The  strongest  tendency  of  his 
nature  was  at  this  time  an  intellectual  one,  could  he  have 
been  free  to  give  full  play  to  his  choice.  It  had  been  his 
ambition  when  he  left  college  to  fit  himself  for  a  chair  in 
some  higher  institution  of  learning.  This  purpose  appears 
in  his  college  course,  giving  unity  and  solidity  to  his  college 
career,  even  though  he  does  not  seem  to  have  been  a  hard 
student,  or  so  spoke  of  himself  in  his  after  years.  In  reality 
he  was  laboring  directly,  as  by  a  true  instinct,  for  the  mas- 
tery of  the  implements  of  learned  investigation.  Greek, 
Latin,  and  German  had  been  the  studies  on  which  he  con- 
centrated his  strength.  His  enthusiasm  mounted  to  the 
highest  point  when  he  began  to  discover  the  world  of  hu- 
manity, by  coming  at  first  hand,  and  not  through  the  imper- 
fect medium  of  translations,  to  the  thought  and  life  of  the 
ancient  writers.  Great  as  were  his  later  triumphs  through 
the  gift  of  speech,  they  never  eclipsed  the  memory  of  that 
earlier  triumph.  Then  he  had  become  conscious  of  his 
power.  Scholarship  he  saw  was  a  means  to  some  greater 
end,  opening  the  way  into  a  deeper  knowledge  of  life. 
He  saw  that  each  man  must  come  for  himself  direct  to  the 
sources  of  knowledge,  gaining  the  conviction  which  comes 
from  the  immediate  contact  of  mind  with  mind,  if  he  would 
add  to  the  world's  possessions.  For  the  sciolist  who  pre- 


JET.  28]      THE   DIVINITY   SCHOOL  483 

tends  to  knowledge,  or  makes  a  display  at  second  hand,  he 
had  a  feeling  of  contempt.  It  also  became  more  and  more 
apparent  to  him  that  history  was  the  one  study  on  which  all 
other  learning  was  based.  It  gave  him  a  deeper  interest  in 
theology  that  it  was  connected  with  the  world's  history  and 
the  experience  of  man.  To  find  out  what  that  connection 
was,  to  enter  into  the  thoughts  and  experiences  of  man  as 
man,  reading  it  in  dogmas  or  in  institutions,  was  to  study 
the  history  of  the  church.  Thus  far  his  preaching  had  been 
in  that  line,  the  fresh  interpretation  of  formulas  that  seemed 
outgrown,  or  commonplace,  or  had  become  so  familiar  as  to 
lose  their  meaning.  But  at  every  step  he  took  he  felt  the 
need  of  a  more  extensive  and  thorough  learning;  and  for 
that  learning  which  was  insight  and  power  and  profound  self- 
satisfaction,  which  brought  him  also  close  to  the  heart  and 
mind  of  God,  he  thirsted,  as  a  traveller  in  a  dry  and  thirsty 
land  where  no  water  is. 

But  it  was  not  only  the  satisfaction  of  his  own  mind  he 
sought.  He  never  would  have  been  content  to  have  rested 
there.  What  he  gained  he  must  impart.  To  be  a  teacher  re- 
appeared before  him  as  the  highest,  most  desirable,  the  most 
natural,  calling  of  a  man  in  this  life.  He  did  not  wholly 
like  the  publicity  of  the  life  he  was  now  leading.  To  do 
some  great  work,  but  to  do  it  quietly  without  ostentation, 
to  come  in  contact  with  other  minds  in  the  intimate  rela- 
tions of  teacher  and  pupil,  to  act  quietly  as  a  leavening  in- 
fluence till  the  whole  should  be  leavened,  —  this  if  he  had 
any  ambition  was  his.  It  could  be  done  in  the  teacher's 
chair  better  than  in  the  pulpit.  Other  men  might  be  found 
who  could  guide  the  activities  of  large  churches,  but  the  men 
with  a  divine  calling  to  become  teachers  were  rare.  He 
dared  to  believe  or  to  hope  that  he  was  one  of  these.  It  was 
in  his  blood,  too,  the  mysterious  appeal  of  an  inherited 
ancestral  force  which  had  wrought  great  things  for  the  cause 
of  education,  —  the  Phillipses,  who  had  formed  the  academies 
at  Andover  and  Exeter;  who  had  combined  to  impoverish 
the  family  in  order  to  establish  a  theological  seminary.  His 
heart  rejoiced  at  the  thought  of  a  school,  a  college,  above 


484  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1864 

all  a  theological  seminary.  And  here  the  opportunity  was 
at  his  lian.l.  the  opportunity  of  a  lifetime,  the  one  depart- 
ment of  study  he  most  coveted  in  a  higher  institution  of 
learning,  in  his  own  church  and  under  auspices  most  favor- 
able. He  could  not  have  had  any  doubt  in  his  own  mind 
what  his  decision  should  be.  These  letters  to  his  father  and 
brother  tell  briefly  but  clearly  the  situation :  — 

Thursday  morning,  January  7,  1864. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  want  to  write  to  you  about  a  very  impor- 
tant matter  (to  me),  probably  one  of  the  most  important  I  shall 
ever  have  to  meet.  It  has  been  vaguely  in  prospect  for  some 
time,  but  not  in  such  a  state  that  I  could  speak  about  it  until 
now.  You  know  we  have  a  new  Divinity  School  just  starting 
here,  with  great  promise  of  success.  A  gentleman  in  New  York 
has  just  endowed  a  Professorship  of  Ecclesiastical  History,  and  I 
have  received  the  appointment  to  the  chair,  and  have  decided  to 
leave  the  Holy  Trinity  and  accept  it.  You  may  be  sure  I  have 
not  settled  this  in  a  hurry.  I  want  you  and  Mother  to  under- 
stand just  exactly  what  are  my  reasons  for  such  a  decision. 

In  the  first  place  the  great  need  of  the  church  (you  surely  know 
it)  is  for  ministers.  And  any  one  who  can  go  to  the  root  of  that 
difficulty,  and  help  to  train  the  right  sort  of  men,  is  doing  a  better 
and  more  fundamental  work  than  any  mere  parish  minister  could 
do.  Then  the  great  need  of  our  seminaries  is  young  men  for  pro- 
fessors. We  have  always  had  old  men.  We  want  younger  ones, 
and  I  have  got  youth  and  energy,  if  nothing  else,  to  give.  Again, 
the  parish  is  much  more  easily  provided  for  than  the  chair. 
Any  man  they  choose  to  call  will  take  the  Church  of  the  Holy 
Trinity,  with  its  splendid  congregation  and  its  $4000  a  year. 
There  are  not  a  great  many,  certainly  none  with  families,  wbo 
can  afford  to  come  to  the  obscure  professorship  at  $1800  a 
year. 

Then  a  more  personal  reason.  I  need  it  for  myself.  In  the 
whirl  of  this  life  which  I  am  living  now  I  get  no  time  for  study. 
Everything  is  going  out,  nothing  is  coming  in,  and  I  find  myself 
needing  a  quieter  and  more  studious  life.  I  shall  both  do  more 
and  get  more  good  in  my  professor's  chair. 

These  are  the  reasons  wby  I  have  decided  on  the  change.  I 
hope  you  will  approve  of  them  and  of  my  step.  I  hate  to  leave 
the  parish.  It  never  was  more  perfectly  prosperous  or  more  dear 
to  me  than  it  is  to-day,  but  I  don't  see  how  to  help  it.  I  ought 
to  go.  It  will  involve  a  great  change  in  my  way  of  life.  The 


AT.  28]      THE  DIVINITY   SCHOOL  485 

endowment  is  only  $30, 000,  yielding  $1800  a  year.  I  must  get 
along  on  that.  I  shall  go  to  West  Philadelphia  to  live,  and  settle 
into  a  much  quieter  and  less  conspicuous  existence  than  I  have 
been  living.  I  shan't  mind  that. 

Bishop  Potter  approves  the  step.  Nobody  knows  it  in  the 
parish  yet  but  Mr.  Coffin,  who  is  very  sorry,  but  perfectly  friendly. 
Let  me  hear  what  you  all  think. 

Yours  lovingly,  PHILL. 

Saturday  morning,  January  9,  1864. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  — ...  I  have  not  been  able  to  write  a  ser- 
mon this  week.  The  matter  of  which  I  wrote  Father  and  Mother 
the  other  day,  my  leaving  the  church  for  the  Divinity  School,  has 
kept  me  very  anxious  and  unsettled,  and  put  steady  writing  out  of 
the  question.  I  am  more  and  more  decided  to  go.  My  parish  is 
very  dear  to  me,  —  I  did  not  know  at  all  how  dear  until  I  began 
to  think  of  leaving  it ;  but  this  other  work  is  so  important,  so  im- 
mensely needs  aid  and  can  find  so  few  to  undertake  it,  that  I 
seem  very  much  inclined  to  think  it  is  my  duty  to  accept  the  call. 
What  do  you  think  of  it  ?  I  am  delighted  at  your  thoughts  of 
coming  on.  If  I  change  my  position,  I  may  not  be  able  to  offer 
you  as  sumptuous  a  reception  as  I  otherwise  should,  but  you  shall 
have  the  warmest  welcome  that  ever  brother  had.  Don't  come 
just  yet,  for  the  city  and  country  are  miserable  in  their  winter's 
dress,  but  come  towards  spring,  when  horseback  is  possible  and 
the  country  is  glorious.  But  come  whenever  you  can.  You  can 
never  miss  a  welcome.  You  are  certainly  right  about  "Jean 
Ingelow."  It  is  a  great  book.  I  wonder  who  she  is. 

There  was  consternation  in  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity 
when  it  became  known  that  the  inclination  of  Phillips  Brooks 
was  to  abandon  the  pulpit  and  become  a  professor  in  a  theo- 
logical seminary.  It  may  be  different  in  the  Episcopal 
Church  in  this  respect  from  what  it  is  in  other  churches. 
Among  Presbyterians  and  Congregationalists  it  has  some- 
times been  regarded  as  an  honor  to  be  called  from  high 
places,  from  large  and  wealthy  churches,  to  such  positions. 
A  call  to  Andover  or  to  Princeton  is  a  call  to  go  up  higher, 
no  matter  how  great  or  rare  may  be  a  man's  success  in  the 
pulpit  or  in  parish  ministrations.  But  if  a  Phillips  Brooks 
had  appeared  among  them,  it  may  be  doubtful  what  would 
have  been  the  verdict  in  regard  to  his  duty.  At  any  rate,  in 
the  Episcopal  Church  the  traditions  were  not  in  favor  of 


486  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1864 

such  a  translation.  Mr.  Brooks  had  said  that  a  parish  is 
much  more  easily  provided  for  than  a  teacher's  chair.  The 
congregation  of  the  Holy  Trinity  were  unanimous  in  their 
conviction  that  the  reverse  was  true,  that  many  could  be 
found  to  fill  the  teacher's  chair,  while  few,  indeed,  if  any, 
could  be  found  to  succeed  him  as  their  rector.  Among  the 
many  letters  that  now  poured  in  upon  him  there  was  not 
one  that  sustained  him,  or  encouraged  him  to  maintain  his 
decision.  In  some  of  the  letters  there  is  manifested  almost 
a  feeling  of  indignation  against  him  that  he  could  be  so  ob- 
livious to  the  divine  will  and  the  manifest  tokens  of  divine 
approval.  Again,  as  in  the  earlier  years  of  his  life,  the 
world  spirit  rose  before  him,  and  seemed  to  bar  the  way 
with  its  flaming  sword  to  the  tree  of  life.  It  took  the 
shape  of  earnest  protests  and  pathetic  appeals  from  his  con- 
gregation  as  a  whole  and  from  its  individual  members.  And 
Phillips  Brooks  was  so  constituted  as  to  find  it  impossible  to 
resist  these  appeals.  When  it  came  to  a  moral  principle  to 
be  advocated  or  any  truth  enforced,  he  had  no  difficulty. 
But  when  it  was  a  question  of  other  things,  or  of  how  he 
should  act  when  there  was  a  choice  of  paths  to  be  followed, 
each  of  which  promised  the  highest  spiritual  vantage,  then 
he  was  very  much  at  the  mercy  of  his  friends,  and  followed 
what  seemed  the  loudest  call. 

It  is  strange,  however,  to  find  that  he  does  not  value,  or 
seem  to  be  aware  of,  the  gift  of  speech  with  which  he  had 
been  endowed.  In  none  of  his  letters  or  in  private  records 
does  he  give  any  sign  that  he  values  the  possession  of  this 
power  which  the  world  seems  to  value  beyond  all  other  gifts. 
He  must  have  known  it,  but  he  held  it  low  in  comparison 
with  the  reality  he  was  aspiring  after.  To  be  a  scholar,  to 
penetrate  to  the  very  core  of  human  learning  and  throw  new 
light  upon  the  march  of  humanity  through  the  ways  of  life, 
that  was  the  thing  he  coveted  and  prized ;  for  that,  too,  he 
dared  believe  that  he  was  fitted.  But  this  is  not  the  world's 
estimate.  It  has  not  greatly  cared  for  its  scholars,  who  by 
laborious  efforts  of  a  long  life  have  contributed  some  slight 
accretion  to  the  store  of  real  knowledge.  It  has  not  heaped  its 


ALT.  28]       THE  DIVINITY   SCHOOL  487 

highest  honors  upon  an  Origen  or  a  Jerome.  But  those  who 
have  enthralled  it  by  the  charm  of  the  spoken  word,  these 
are  remembered  and  commemorated  down  through  the  ages, 
as  though  the  voice  of  their  eloquence  was  still  resounding, 
as  though  they  were  types  of  the  divine  voice  appealing  to 
men,  evidence  that  God  was  speaking  to  the  world  and  man 
had  been  compelled  to  listen  and  obey.  Chrysostom  and 
St.  Bernard,  Savonarola  and  a  few  others,  take  rank  with 
inspired  singers,  with  great  artists,  with  the  masters  of  litera- 
ture. Into  this  small  circle  of  the  great  world's  favorites 
he  was  entitled  now  to  enter,  and  yet  for  the  privilege  of 
doing  so  he  does  not  greatly  care.  But  at  least  he  was  com- 
pelled to  listen  to  the  world's  judgment  and  finally  acquiesce 
in  its  decisions.  Here  is  the  protest  which  came  from  the 
vestry  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity :  — 

January  12, 1864. 

Resolved,  That  the  vestry  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  do 
hereby  present  their  warm,  affectionate,  and  earnest  remonstrance 
to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Brooks  against  any  action  which  would  terminate 
their  close  and  endearing  connection  with  him,  and  deprive  the 
people  of  this  church  and  this  city  of  such  an  element  of  power  as 
he  now  possesses ;  and  they  add  their  own  warm  desire  that  both 
with  reference  to  his  own  usefulness  and  to  their  spiritual  welfare 
and  that  of  others,  the  rector  will  see  fit  to  decline  the  position 
which  it  is  proposed  to  offer  him. 

JAMES  S.  BIDDLE, 

Secretary  of  the  Vestry. 

It  is  impossible  to  do  more  than  refer  to  the  many  per- 
sonal appeals  he  received  from  individual  members  of  his 
congregation,  —  pathetic,  affectionate  appeals  not  to  desert 
them,  resolutions  adopted  by  the  numerous  societies  in  the 
parish,  which  owed  their  origin  to  his  impulse,  declaring 
that  they  could  not  go  on  without  him.  It  would  have  been 
very  difficult  to  resist  this  pressure  had  there  been  no  other 
argument  against  the  proposed  change  in  his  life.  But  there 
were  also  other  ways  of  shaking  his  confidence  in  his  new 
purpose  before  it  should  have  ripened  into  a  final  deci- 
sion. His  friend,  Mr.  Stille,  then  provost  of  the  Univer- 


488  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1864 

sity  of  Pennsylvania,  offered  suggestions  tending  to  under- 
mine his  faith  in  the  relative  greatness  of  the  opportunity 
open  to  the  professor's  chair  as  compared  with  the  pulpit :  — 

WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  January  13,  1864. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  hope  you  will  not  think  that  I  have 
gone  in  very  strange  quarters  for  arguments  against  your  "  transla- 
tion, "  but  I  was  so  struck  with  the  sensible,  judicious,  and  wise 
views  of  Dr.  Bellows  on  this  subject  that  I  begged  him  to  write 
to  you.  ...  I  wish  you  could  hear  Dr.  Bellows  talk  about  it ; 
he  does  not  hesitate  to  say  that  he  would  consider  your  withdrawal 
now  a  public  calamity,  although  he  cannot  say  how  far  the  calamity 
may  be  compensated  for  by  activity  in  the  proposed  sphere.  He 
tells  me  in  general  terms  that  he  considers  a  theological  profes- 
sorship a  complete  extinguisher  of  that  sort  of  influence  which 
you  wield  so  wonderfully,  and  which  you  expect  to  extend  by  going 
into  the  new  sphere.  He  tells  me  that  Mr. ,  who  both  be- 
fore and  after  he  held  the  appointment  of professor  at 

exercised  great  influence,  wilted  away  during  his  incumbency. 
Bishop  Clark  of  Rhode  Island,  who  is  here,  .  .  .  authorizes  me  to 
say  that  in  his  opinion  the  proposed  change  would  be  most  unfor- 
tunate in  every  way.  Professor  Bache  will  write  you  on  the 
matter.  .  .  . 

Sincerely  and  affectionately  yours, 

C.  J.  STILLK. 

WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  January  13,  1864. 

REV.  MR.  BROOKS: 

DEAR  SIR,  —  My  friend  Mr.  Still£  has  conversed  very  freely 
with  me  in  regard  to  the  danger  of  his  church  in  losing  the  valued 
services  of  its  rector,  by  his  transference  to  a  professorship  in 
a  new  theological  seminary  about  to  be  opened  in  Philadelphia. 
Having  watched  with  interest  and  admiration  the  successful  pulpit 
career  of  said  rector,  I  take  the  liberty  of  saying,  as  a  friend  to 
the  Christian  pulpit,  that  it  would  in  my  judgment  be  a  great 
error  if  any  man  of  high  pulpit  gifts  should  imagine  that  he  could 
serve  the  Christian  pulpit  in  any  way  half  as  effectually  as  by 
illustrating  the  power  and  graces  of  Christian  eloquence  in  the 
pulpit  itself.  Every  earnest  and  attractive  minister  does  more  to 
make  his  profession  attractive  to  young  men  by  exhibiting  the 
work  itself  before  their  eyes  than  the  best  teacher  or  professor 
could  do  by  unfolding  the  learning  or  the  rules  by  which  the 
neophytes  are  fashioned.  The  truth  is  that  preachers,  like  poets, 
are  born,  not  made,  and  that  a  true-born  preacher  is  one  of  the 
rarest  of  Heaven's  gifts,  and  can  least  of  all  be  spared  from  his 


JET.  28]       THE   DIVINITY   SCHOOL  489 

peculiar  vocation.  .  .  .  Let  me,  an  older,  not  a  better  soldier  of 
the  cross,  beg  you  to  consider  very  seriously  how  you  can  forsake 
a  career  you  have  shown  yourself  fully  competent  to  continue 
with  usefulness  and  success  for  the  untried  field  proposed  to  you; 
where  I  should  fear  that  the  loss  of  freedom,  incitement,  and 
direct  contact  with  practical  life  might  stop  some  of  your  sources 
of  intellectual  and  spiritual  supply  and  freeze  over  the  genial 
current  of  your  soul.  It  is  only  as  a  preacher  addressing  a 
preacher  in  the  common  interest  in  the  highest  of  all  professions 
that  I  venture  to  intrude  these  lines  upon  you. 

Very  truly  yours,          H.  W.  BELLOWS. 

Professor  A.  D.  Bache  also  wrote  to  him  from  Washing- 
ton, moved  by  the  appeal  of  Mr.  Stille :  — 

I  know  that  the  general  argument  of  a  geometrical  progression 
in  the  professor's  action  is  a  specious  one,  but  if  the  intensity  of 
the  action  upon  a  congregation  is  compared  with  that  possible 
upon  the  general  run  of  pupils,  I  do  not  think  the  direct  useful- 
ness is  in  such  a  ratio.  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  succeed  as  a 
teacher  from  the  chair  and  give  that  its  full  value,  but  as  a  wan- 
derer over  many  points  of  the  United  States  I  must  bear  testi- 
mony to  more  remarkable  deficiencies  rather  than  successes  among 
preachers,  and  intend  no  flattery  by  the  expression  that  in 
classes  of  minds  such  as  you  have  to  deal  with,  there  cannot  be 
greater  success  in  giving  good  and  full  impressions  than  under 
Providence  has  been  allotted  to  you.  It  is  a  class  of  ministerial 
effort  so  rare  that  it  cannot  be  too  highly  appreciated  and  cannot 
be  replaced.  I  feel  most  earnestly  desirous  that  such  ministra- 
tions should  not  be  lost  to  our  communion,  and  would  beg  a  most 
earnest  consideration  by  you  before  changing  your  position. 

Inquiry  was  made  into  actual  cases,  whose  history  was 
known,  and  whose  circumstances  were  parallel,  where  suc- 
cessful preachers  with  large  congregations  had  abandoned 
the  pulpit  in  order  to  teach  in  theological  seminaries.  Here 
was  a  precedent  of  a  most  discouraging  character  which  was 
sent  to  Mr.  Brooks  by  a  leading  member  of  his  parish :  — 

Dr.   some  thirty  years  ago  left  one  of  the  most  active 

and  influential  churches  in  this  city  for  a  professorship  in 

Seminary  under  a  great  pressure  from  his  co-presbyters.  Within 
two  years  he  told  me  that,  though  at  the  time  he  thought  he  was 

doing  right,  it  had  been  the  mistake   of  his  life.      The 

Presbyterian  Church  was  destroyed  and  sold  in  consequence. 


490  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1864 

Arguments  like  these  must  have  carried  weight.  Perhaps 
also  the  old,  never  forgotten  failure  in  the  Latin  School  did 
not  tend  to  increase  his  confidence.  Meanwhile  during  these 
critical  days  no  further  pressure  came  from  the  Divinity 
School,  or  those  who  represented  it.  They  had  perpetrated 
a  daring  act  and  then  seem  to  have  timidly  withdrawn  from 
the  conflict,  leaving  their  nominee  to  struggle  alone.  His 
fellow  clergy  did  not  encourage  him.  The  following  letter 
was  from  an  Episcopal  clergyman  much  older  than  himself, 
whose  opinion  carried  weight  in  the  community.  Its  plain 
speech  and  matter-of-fact  manner  were  at  least  calculated  to 
dampen  one's  ardor  :  — 

PHILADELPHIA,  January  11,  1864. 

MY  DEAR  BROTHER,  —  Don't  accept  the  professorship.  Par- 
don my  freedom  in  talking  with  you;  it  is  my  way.  I  say,  don't 
accept  it.  It  seems  to  me  that  your  peculiar  talent  as  a  preacher 
makes  it  a  real  call  of  God  to  yon  to  be  in  a  position  in  which 
you  can  exercise  that  talent  to  His  glory.  Do  not  the  crowds 
who  attend  your  ministry  and  who  would  not  attend  other  men 
show  that  your  mission  is  to  them  ?  What  right  have  you  to  leave 
those  whom  God  sends  after  yon?  Did  the  Saviour  do  so  when 
the  five  thousand  came  to  Him  in  the  wilderness?  Did  He 
not  feed  them  by  such  power  as  he  had  ?  Your  case  is  peculiar 
enough  to  make  it  quite  evident  that  you  have  a  call  in  this  direc- 
tion. Whenever  any  man  has  extraordinary  success  in  any  given 
line  of  Christian  duty,  it  is  a  mark  that  God  intends  him  for  it. 
How  do  you  know  that  you  will  be  so  favored  in  any  other  place  ? 
Are  there  not  a  great  many  men  who  can  take  the  history  chair  — 
is  there  one  who  can  stand  in  your  shoes  ?  There  can  be  no  doubt 
that  there  is  not  one. 

If  you  cannot  visit,  don't  visit.  Let  the  congregation  under- 
stand that  you  will  make  no  more  visits,  except  to  the  sick,  the 
troubled,  or  the  dying.  Let  these  be  the  terms  upon  which  you 
will  preach.  If  after  a  year  you  find  it  will  not  do,  then  give  up 
preaching  for  a  professorship.  ...  I  am  sure  you  ought  not  to 
take  this  professorship.  Moreover,  to  be  as  plain  as  truth,  I 
don't  think  you  the  man  for  it,  although  I  believe  yon  could  fit 
yourself  for  anything.  I  know  I  ought  not  to  write  in  this  way 
to  you,  for  I  have  not  been  thrown  with  you  enough  to  take  the 
privilege  of  intimacy.  But  I  seem  to  be  speaking  for  the  Lord, 
who,  I  think,  says,  "Keep  to  Holy  Trinity  Church." 


.  28]      THE  DIVINITY  SCHOOL  491 

But  this  was  not  all;  a  step  yet  greater  was  taken,  when 
the  congregation  of  the  Holy  Trinity  was  summoned  as  a 
synod  to  consider  the  question,  —  their  first  meeting  in  such 
a  capacity.  They  came  to  the  place  of  assembly  prepared  to 
make  great  sacrifices  if  only  they  could  retain  their  minister. 
Already  it  had  become  widely  known  in  the  parish  that 
there  was  one  thing  they  could  do,  —  they  could  refrain  from 
calling  upon  him  during  certain  hours  of  the  day,  thus 
leaving  him  leisure  for  study,  and  they  could  excuse  him 
from  the  necessity  of  making  calls  in  the  parish  beyond  what 
necessity  demanded.  These  concessions  they  gladly  made. 
It  is  also  interesting  to  note  that  Phillips  Brooks 's  great 
friend,  Dr.  Vinton,  had  become  entangled  in  dark  suspicions, 
and  took  the  opportunity  to  clear  himself  of  any  complicity 
with  the  transaction.  This  was  the  letter  sent  by  the  con- 
gregation to  their  rector :  — 

The  congregation  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  having 
learned  with  deep  emotion  and  regret  that  the  rector,  the  Rev. 
Phillips  Brooks,  has  entertained  a  proposition  that  he  should  be- 
come Professor  of  Ecclesiastical  History  at  the  Divinity  School  in 
West  Philadelphia,  have  assembled  in  general  meeting  to  express 
the  painful  surprise  with  which  they  have  received  this  announce- 
ment, and  to  take  such  action  as  may  be  deemed  advisable,  with 
a  view  to  avert  from  the  parish  so  great  a  calamity  as  the  dissolu- 
tion of  the  happy  relations  at  present  existing  between  themselves 
and  their  beloved  rector. 

The  congregation  are  perfectly  aware  that  the  only  mode  in 
which  they  can  hope  to  succeed  in  retaining  the  services  of  Mr. 
Brooks,  and  avoiding  the  evils  likely  to  arise  from  a  second 
change  of  rectorship  in  so  short  a  period  of  its  existence,  is  to 
produce  the  conviction  on  his  mind  that  the  usefulness  of  Mr. 
Brooks  to  the  Episcopal  Church  in  this  diocese,  viewed  in  any  true 
and  comprehensive  light,  requires  that  he  should  remain  in  his 
present  position  rather  than  accept  the  vacant  professorship.  The 
congregation  do  not  for  a  moment  doubt  the  imperative  necessity 
of  the  increase  of  the  number  of  earnest,  cultivated,  and  active  men 
in  the  ministry  of  the  Christian  church,  nor  the  great  importance 
of  sustaining  the  Philadelphia  Divinity  School,  as  an  agency  for 
supplying  the  acknowledged  need,  and  confidently  hope  that  this 
church  may  prove  a  valuable  aid  to  this  institution  in  future 
years,  nor  are  they  insensible  to  the  high  appreciation  of  charac- 


492  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1864 

ter  and  services  of  our  rector  which  has  led  to  his  nomination. 
We  are  none  the  less  convinced,  however,  from  an  experience 
extending  through  the  last  two  years,  that  the  true  sphere  of  use- 
fulness  for  our  pastor  is  at  the  head  of  this  parish.  During  his 
occupancy  of  this  position,  every  day's  experience  has  confirmed 
our  belief  in  the  peculiar  fitness  of  Mr.  Brooks  for  preaching  the 
gospel.  His  talents  seem  to  us  to  qualify  him  in  an  unusual 
degree  for  success,  not  merely  as  a  preacher,  but  for  the  develop- 
ment of  those  great  schemes  of  church  work  without  which  no 
parish  can  live  or  prosper  in  any  sense.  His  efforts  during  his 
incumbency  to  establish  Trinity  Chapel  and  extend  the  missionary 
work,  and  to  undertake  all  those  varied  labors  by  which  a  true 
Christian  life  manifests  itself  in  a  parish,  have  met  with  wonder- 
ful success ;  due  in  a  great  measure,  it  seemed  to  us,  to  the  sym- 
pathetic ardor  and  enthusiasm  of  his  character,  combined  in  a 
wonderful  and  most  unusual  degree  with  the  wisdom  and  judg- 
ment which  has  marked  all  his  plans. 

His  great  popularity  and  success  as  a  preacher,  particularly  in 
the  case  of  those  persons  of  culture  and  position  who  have  seldom 
heretofore  attended  the  public  services  of  our  church,  lead  us  to 
the  belief  and  conviction  that  his  influence  in  extending  the  power 
of  the  Christian  church,  and  in  bringing  into  its  fold  many  who 
may  hereafter  become  through  his  agency  active  and  earnest 
ministers  of  the  church,  cannot  be  overrated.  We  do  not  hesitate 
to  avow,  as  our  deliberate  opinion,  that  in  this  way  he  will  exert 
a  far  greater  influence  in  increasing  the  power  of  the  church,  and 
filling  the  pulpit  with  ministers  of  the  highest  qualifications,  than 
he  could  possibly  do  by  efforts  within  the  very  limited  circle  of 
any  theological  school. 

Finally  we  conceive  that  Mr.  Brooks's  present  position  enables 
him  to  exercise  an  immense  influence  for  good  as  a  citizen,  which 
we  should  be  blind  and  ungrateful  not  fully  to  recognize.  In 
view  of  all  these  considerations,  and  of  many  others  equally  obvi- 
ous, which  we  cannot  here  enumerate,  it  is  impossible  that  we 
should  consent  to  sever  the  tie  which  his  ability,  devotion,  and 
earnest  interest  have  formed  between  us,  and  thereby  entail  a 
sorrow  which  we  cannot  contemplate  without  the  deepest  emotion. 

In  considering  this  subject,  it  seems  proper  for  us  respectfully 
to  request  that  our  rector  shall  set  apart  certain  hours  daily,  say 
from  ten  A.  M.  until  three  p.  M  ..  or  such  other  hours  as  he  may 
select,  exclusively  for  his  own  study,  during  which  he  shall  be 
free  from  any  interruption  by  the  congregation,  who  shall  be  pro- 
perly notified  of  this  arrangement. 

fiesolved,  That  a  copy  of  this  minute  as  an  expression  of  the 


MT.  28]      THE  DIVINITY   SCHOOL  493 

earnest  and  unanimous  wish  of  the  congregation  of  Holy  Trinity 
Church  be  furnished  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Phillips  Brooks,  by  a  com- 
mittee to  be  appointed  by  the  chairman. 

By  January  16  the  question  was  decided,  and  the  congrega- 
tion was  again  summoned  in  formal  conclave.  The  meeting 
was  opened  with  prayer  by  Mr.  John  Bullion.  The  follow- 
ing is  part  of  the  minutes :  — 

Mr.  L.  Coffin  read  to  the  congregation  a  letter  from  Dr.  A. 
H.  Vinton,  contradicting  a  report  that  he  had  been  instrumental 
in  the  nomination  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Brooks  to  the  professorship  at 
West  Philadelphia. 

Mr.  Coffin  then  announced  to  the  congregation  that  Mr.  Brooks 
had  declined  the  nomination,  which  information  was  received 
with  great  demonstrations  of  gratification. 

Mr.  Bohlen  offered  the  following  resolution,  which  was  unani- 
mously adopted :  — 

The  congregational  meeting  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity, 
the  first  ever  convened,  assembled  for  consultation  in  view  of  the 
apprehended  danger  to  the  congregation  which  the  resignation  of 
the  rector  would  cause,  are  now  called  upon,  instead  of  the  action 
proposed  before  they  assembled,  to  render  devout  thanks  to 
Almighty  God,  the  giver  of  every  good  and  perfect  gift,  that  He 
has  been  pleased  to  avert  from  us  this  threatened  danger,  and  to 
renew  our  assurance  of  confidence  in,  and  thanks  to,  our  beloved 
rector,  whose  ministrations  are  now  to  be  continued,  we  trust  for 
many  years,  to  the  congregation. 

We  humbly  and  devoutly  render  thanks  to  the  Giver  of  all 
good,  for  His  continued  favor  to  us,  and  we  desire  to  assure  our 
rector  of  the  sincere  joy  which  his  determination  has  caused  us ; 
to  give  him  our  thanks  for  the  fidelity,  earnestness,  ability,  and 
purity  with  which  he  has  preached  to  us  the  precious  gospel  of 
our  Redeemer;  and  to  pledge  to  him  the  cooperation  of  the  con- 
gregation in  all  good  works  for  the  spread  of  the  gospel  within 
and  without  our  limits,  and  our  trust  that  we  will  by  our  own 
faithfulness  to  our  God  and  Saviour,  His  gospel,  and  our  own 
duties  give  him  to  see  the  fruits  of  his  labors,  and  the  good 
which  by  the  Holy  Spirit  he  has  been,  and  may  yet  be,  enabled  to 
do  to  the  cause  of  religion  at  large. 

On  motion  of  Mr.  C.  J.  Stille'  it  was  resolved  that  a  copy  of 
the  above  resolution  shall  be  transmitted  to  the  rector,  and  also 
to  the  vestry  for  record  in  the  minutes. 

Mr.  Whelen  stated  to  the  congregation  that  during  the  discus- 


494  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1864 

sion  of  this  subject  by  the  committee,  it  had  been  determined  to 
recommend  that  the  rector  be  requested  to  set  apart  certain  hours 
daily,  say  from  ten  A.  M.  until  three  P.  M.,  or  such  other  hours 
as  he  may  select,  exclusively  for  his  own  study,  during  which  he 
should  be  free  from  any  interference  by  the  congregation. 
On  motion  the  meeting  was  then  adjourned. 

JOHN  M.  READ,  Chairman, 
EDWARD  S.  WHXLEN,  Secretary. 
PHILADELPHIA,  January  16, 1864. 

So  it  waa  decided  that  Phillips  Brooks  should  remain  in 
the  pulpit  and  not  be  lost  in  a  professor's  chair.  The  whole 
event  is  full  of  significance.  Those  familiar  with  his  his- 
tory will  look  forward  to  another  crisis  in  his  life,  when 
seventeen  years  later  he  was  called  to  the  professorship  of 
Moral  Philosophy  in  Harvard  University.  Then  he  went 
through  the  same  severe  struggle  for  the  second  and  the  last 
time.  In  each  case  his  own  natural  preference  was  against 
the  decision  that  was  rendered.  So  late  as  1881  he  had  not 
finally  abandoned  the  ideal  of  his  youth  to  be  a  teacher.  It 
was  a  great  sacrifice  which  the  world  was  demanding  when  it 
asked  that  he  should  give  up  the  instincts  and  high  ambition 
of  the  scholar,  for  no  less  than  this  was  involved  in  the  essen- 
tial limitations  of  the  pulpit.  No  one  knew  better  than  he 
what  those  limitations  were,  or  mourned  more  deeply  that  he 
must  submit  to  them,  when  the  last  and  final  decision  was 
accomplished.  But  meanwhile  he  was  not  fully  convinced 
that  the  demands  of  the  pulpit,  or  of  his  own  personality  as  a 
preacher,  required  so  complete  and  absolute  a  sacrifice.  In 
this  there  was  an  element  of  hope  and  of  greater  power.  He 
still  kept  the  two  ideals  before  him  as  not  radically  incom- 
patible. Opinion  will  differ  as  to  whether  he  took  the  right 
course  of  action,  in  this  critical  moment,  when  his  life  was 
still  before  him.  When  the  call  to  Harvard  came  it  was 
different,  for  many  years  had  then  passed  over  him,  and  what 
he  might  have  done  with  ease  at  first  was  then  more  difficult. 
The  wider  consensus  of  opinion  will  acknowledge  with  grati- 
tude the  action  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  in  Phila- 
delphia, by  which  the  unexampled  preacher  was  saved  to  the 
church,  to  the  country,  and  to  the  world.  But  there  may  be 


JET.  28]      THE  DIVINITY   SCHOOL  495 

some  who  will  lament  that  the  teacher's  chair  lost  not  only 
an  ornament,  but  that  scientific  theology  and  the  scientific 
interpretation  of  ecclesiastical  history  then  suffered  a  loss 
which  can  never  be  repaired.  Few  men  with  such  gifts  of 
insight  and  sympathy,  natural  endowments,  and  acquired 
training  in  scholarship,  ever  went  to  the  work  of  a  teacher 
with  better  prospects  of  success.  His  decision  to  remain 
with  his  church  is  thus  alluded  to  in  a  letter  to  his  bro- 
ther:— 

1533  LOCUST  STREET,  Saturday,  January  22, 1864. 
DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  ...  I  am  settled  down  after  my  little 
promise  of  disturbance,  and  parish  work  is  going  on  pretty  much 
as  usual,  except  that  by  an  understanding  with  my  people  I  ex- 
pect to  get  more  time  for  my  own  study,  and  to  get  rid  of  what  I 
hold  to  be  very  unnecessary  work,  the  spending  the  best  part  of 
the  day  in  running  about  making  calls. 

It  was  while  the  question  of  his  call  to  the  Divinity  School 
was  still  pending  that  he  was  induced  to  consent  to  the  pub- 
lication of  a  volume  of  his  sermons.  Dr.  Vinton  had  given 
his  approval  to  the  scheme.  Arrangements  had  been  made 
with  the  firm  of  Lippincott  &  Company,  the  making  of  the 
book  had  begun,  and  half  of  its  pages  were  stereotyped, 
when  he  concluded  to  withdraw  it.  The  subject  is  alluded 
to  in  the  family  letters,  but  vaguely.  His  father  was  strongly 
opposed  to  the  project.  Mr.  Brooks  explained  that  in  view 
of  his  narrow  income  in  the  Divinity  School,  he  should  find  it 
necessary  to  depend  upon  his  pen,  and  for  this  reason  he  had 
made  the  venture.  Whether  it  was  the  urgency  of  the  pub- 
lishers, or  the  wishes  of  his  congregation  that  he  should  offer 
to  the  public  a  volume  of  his  sermons,  is  uncertain.  Perhaps 
it  was  wiser  that  the  book  was  withdrawn.  A  few  copies 
were  bound  up,  to  give  to  intimate  friends,  and  at  some  ex- 
pense to  himself  the  venture  terminated.  This  subject  and 
other  points  of  interest  are  mentioned  in  the  following  letter 
to  his  father.  He  speaks  of  a  visit  to  him  by  the  boys,  the 
two  youngest  brothers,  Arthur  and  John,  in  which  he  took 
great  delight.  He  has  a  large  project  on  hand  to  raise  an 
endowment  for  the  new  Divinity  School. 


496  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1864 

1538  LOGOUT  STREET,  Saturday,  March  12, 1864. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  I  write  in  haste,  knowing  that  I  ought  to 
have  written  before,  but  then  I  am  always  in  haste  now.  Yours 
was  received,  and  was  very  welcome.  About  the  book  you  must 
say  no  more.  Of  course  I  pay  the  cost.  It  won't  be  much,  I 
don't  know  just  how  much  yet;  Lippincott  has  not  made  his  cal- 
culations yet,  but  I  can  stand  it.  I  haven't  got  boys  in  school 
and  in  college,  and  though  I  am  not  doing  a  smashing  hardware 
business,  I  am  getting  a  salary  quite  sufficient  for  my  wants,  and 
can  afford  it  very  well ;  so  no  more  on  that  subject. 

The  boys'  visit  still  lingers  like  the  odor  of  an  old  pipe  or  an 
old  Andover  MS.,  just  which  you  please.  I  like  the  first  better 
than  the  second.  You  like  the  second  better  than  the  first.  At 
any  rate  it  was  very  pleasant,  and  I  like  to  think  of  it.  I  hope  it 
did  them  as  much  good  as  it  did  me.  We  are  in  the  midst  of 
Lent,  and  hard  at  work.  My  church  goes  on  beautifully,  was 
never  so  harmonious  and  so  active.  I  am  making  it  my  winter's 
work  to  endow  a  "  Holy  Trinity  Professorship  "  in  the  new  Di- 
vinity School.  It  will  take  $30,000.  I  have  $15,000  already 
subscribed,  and  see  my  way  clear  to  at  least  $5000  more.  Money 
was  never  so  easy  to  beg  as  when  men  are  pouring  it  out  in  all 
directions  very  freely. 

Dr.  Butler  has  just  been  nominated  to  the  chair  in  the  school 
which  I  declined. 

Affectionately,          PHILLIPS. 

As  to  the  endowment  of  a  chair  in  the  Divinity  School, 
there  was  no  difficulty.  The  congregation  of  the  Church  of 
the  Holy  Trinity  quickly  and  gladly  responded  to  the  appeal, 
felicitating  themselves  as  they  did  so,  it  may  be,  on  having 
escaped  the  danger  of  losing  their  rector.  He  was  calling 
for  their  gifts,  who  would  have  preferred  to  give  himself,  to 
the  cause  of  theological  education,  and  there  was  no  alterna- 
tive but  to  respond.  When  the  fund  had  been  raised  it  was 
to  be  presented  on  the  condition  that  the  rector  of  Holy 
Trinity  should  have  the  right  of  presentation  to  the  new  pro- 
fessorship. This  was  no  slight  contribution  to  a  cause  so 
near  to  his  heart,  though  a  pale  negation  compared  with  his 
defeated  purpose. 

Mr.  Brooks  was  now  at  liberty  to  improve  the  time  at  his 
disposal,  when  his  mornings  were  left  free  for  study,  and  he 
no  longer  was  expected  to  make  the  rounds  of  his  large  par- 


8]    THE  POLITICAL  REFORMER      497 

ish  in  annual  visitations.  Whether  he  was  quite  contented 
with  the  new  situation  is  another  question.  The  trouble  had 
its  origin,  not  merely  in  the  invasion  of  his  working  hours 
by  those  who  were  anxious  to  see  him,  but  quite  as  much  in 
the  reverse  attitude,  —  an  invasion  by  those  whom  he  was 
anxious  to  see.  Even  thus  early  in  his  ministerial  life,  it 
was  almost  an  axiom  with  him  that  the  man  who  wanted  to 
see  him  was  the  man  whom  he  wanted  to  see.  He  had  to 
struggle  against  himself  when  he  shut  himself  up  to  work. 
There  was  a  contradiction  in  his  nature,  this  insatiate  de- 
sire for  knowledge  and  determination  to  get  at  its  deeper 
sources,  and  on  the  other  hand  this  strong  attraction  to  be 
with  people,  to  enter  into  the  present  life  of  humanity  by 
reading  the  revelation  which  every  human  soul  presented  to 
him.  It  was  an  unsettled  question  which  was  the  most  im- 
portant study,  as  bearing  upon  the  mission  of  the  preacher. 
He  wanted  both,  and  without  both  he  felt  he  could  not  live. 
He  possessed  to  an  extraordinary  degree  the  gift  of  observa- 
tion. He  noticed  everything  that  came  under  his  gaze ;  he 
was  reading  and  studying  while  meeting  people,  or  walking 
the  streets,  or  at  an  evening  party,  or  in  the  unbounded 
pleasure  he  felt  in  the  society  of  intimate  friends.  Nothing 
escaped  him ;  a  casual  remark  might  have  for  him  the  hint 
of  a  sermon ;  from  a  conversation  he  could  extract  what  others 
would  require  a  book  to  teach.  If  he  were  to  be  a  master  of 
human  learning,  the  authoritative  expounder  of  theological 
science  that  he  wished  to  be  and  was  capable  of  becoming,  it 
would  have  been  easier  if  his  life  had  been  ordered  for  him 
in  the  cloisters  of  a  theological  school.  But  then  he  would 
have  missed  also  something  vital,  —  the  living  book  of  human 
life,  in  which  he  became  an  expert,  so  as  to  have  no  superior. 
There  was  here  an  unavoidable  conflict.  Meantime  he  has 
undertaken  the  double  task,  and  will  do  the  best  he  can  to 
give  to  each  an  impartial  hearing. 

He  now  laid  out  for  himself  a  course  of  reading  and  study. 
The  subject  which  he  chose  was  Mohammedanism.  He  made 
himself  familiar  with  the  literature  of  the  subject,  buying 
the  available  books  in  English,  French,  and  German,  and  for 


498  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1864 

a  year  or  more  pursued  his  inquiry.  He  also  returned  to 
bis  practice  of  keeping  a  note-book,  wherein  he  recorded  re- 
flections on  his  reading,  and  disclosed  also  the  process  of  his 
mind  as  the  subject  opened  before  him.  It  is  important  to 
dwell  on  this  point  for  a  moment,  not  only  as  giving  a 
glimpse  of  the  student,  but  still  more  because  of  the  sig- 
nificance at  this  particular  moment  of  his  life  of  the  topic 
on  which  he  had  fastened.  Why  should  he  have  selected 
Mohammedanism?  In  many  respects  it  was  a  wise  choice, 
for  one  may  learn  as  much  of  Christianity  in  its  essential 
meaning  by  studying  the  workings  of  a  religion  which  denied 
its  fundamental  postulates,  as  by  poring  over  the  letter  and 
text  of  General  Councils  against  which  Mohammed  was  pro- 
testing. How  has  a  religion  worked  in  practice  which  is 
based  upon  a  denial  of  Christian  convictions  such  as  the 
Trinity,  the  Incarnation,  and  the  Atonement?  Wherein 
lay  the  secret  of  Mohammed's  unquestioned  power?  What 
motive  did  he  supply  when  invoking  the  human  will?  What 
light  does  the  Koran  throw  upon  the  method  of  the  Christian 
revelation  ?  Such  were  some  of  the  questions  he  kept  before 
him. 

But  the  choice  of  topic  is  significant  for  other  reasons, 
which  may  be  partly  suggested  here,  but  can  only  be  fully 
seen  in  his  later  development.  He  was  studying  the  working 
of  the  will,  as  the  vital  element  in  man,  in  relation  to  life 
and  religion.  That  inquiry  which  he  had  raised  in  his  own 
mind  when  beginning  his  theological  studies  in  Virginia, 
how  to  turn  truth  into  motive  power  for  the  will,  again  stood 
out  before  his  imagination  as  he  sought  to  understand  the 
power  of  the  preacher.  Where  lay  the  secret  of  what  we 
call  power?  This  power  he  must  have  been  conscious  that 
he  possessed,  as  he  was  not  aware  in  those  bewildering  days 
of  his  humiliation  when  he  had  turned  to  the  ministry  uncer- 
tain whether  he  were  fit  for  its  exercise. 

There  was  in  Phillips  Brooks  an  inborn  admiration  for 
power  when  exercised  on  a  vast  scale,  that  i  power  which 
moves  others  simply  by  its  natural  quality,  —  the  greater 
manifestations  of  physical  force,  the  gift  by  which  the  orator 


MT.  28]     THE  POLITICAL  REFORMER      499 

sways  the  wills  of  his  audience,  the  subtle  quality  constitut- 
ing the  hold  of  art  or  literature  on  the  imagination.  Into 
the  secret  of  power  he  sought  to  penetrate.  But  above  all 
he  loved  to  feel  it,  to  experience  the  answering  sensation  it 
awakened,  to  stand,  for  example,  as  close  as  he  could  to  the 
engine  of  an  express  train  passing  him  at  its  highest  speed, 
as  though  that  were  the  index  of  the  power  within  him.  He 
rejoiced  in  the  exercise  of  power  whenever  he  witnessed  it. 
Once,  many  years  later,  when  he  was  asked  what  he  would 
rather  have  been  if  he  had  not  become  a  clergyman,  he  an- 
swered, in  a  jocular  mood,  that  he  would  like  to  have  been 
the  captain  of  a  great  ocean  steamer,  or,  better  than  that,  a 
young  girl  in  her  teens,  awakening  to  the  consciousness  of 
her  beauty,  and  without  effort  subjecting  to  her  sway  those 
who  came  into  her  presence. 

It  was  this  feature  in  the  constitution  of  Phillips  Brooks 
that  drew  him  under  the  spell  of  Carlyle.  He  was  a  close 
student  of  other  literary  teachers  in  his  own  age,  Kuskin  and 
Tennyson,  Browning  and  Coleridge,  but  Carlyle  spoke  to 
what  was  deepest  in  his  nature,  —  that  ingrained  admiration 
for  the  application  of  power.  Like  Carlyle  he  rejoiced  in 
the  appearance  of  the  strong  man  in  history.  "Heroes  and 
Hero  Worship  "  was  one  of  his  manuals.  Among  the  heroes 
whom  he  most  admired  was  Cromwell.  To  Martin  Luther 
he  was  drawn  by  the  same  deep  instinct,  as  the  one  man  who 
by  the  power  that  was  in  him  had  overthrown  the  papacy  and 
the  domination  of  the  mediaeval  church.  He  had  struck  then 
an  interesting  vein  of  history  when  proposing  to  inquire  into 
the  rise  of  Mohammedanism,  the  source  of  its  power,  its 
manifestations,  and  the  causes  of  its  decline. 

His  note-book  indicates  that  his  research  was  governed 
by  this  inquiry.  Now  that  he  was  studying  history  with  a 
special  object  in  view  the  task  was  simplified,  so  that  many 
books  were  read  and  assimilated.  He  took  large  books,  and 
was  not  content  till  he  had  gone  through  them.  He  called 
it  a  study  of  Mohammedanism ;  in  reality  it  was  a  study  of 
Christian  history,  in  the  strangeness  of  its  development.  He 
was  penetrating  beneath  the  surface  of  familiar  traditional 


5oo  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1864 

interpretations,  Protestant,  Anglican,  or  Roman;  he  was 
judging  of  men  and  events  and  institutions  for  himself,  and 
drawing  his  own  conclusions.  Clearness  of  insight,  sanity, 
and  common  sense,  comprehensive  views,  the  capacity  for 
large  generalizations,  with  the  ability  to  detect  the  weakness 
of  false  generalizations,  mark  his  steps  as  he  proceeds.  I  !•• 
sits  in  judgment  on  the  teachers  whom  he  had  revered.  He 
finds  that  Carlyle  overstates  and  colors  his  facts,  while  others 
labor  under  rancor  and  prejudice.  These  mark  the  two  ex- 
tremes in  the  method  of  studying  the  Arabian  prophet.  He 
is  not  satisfied  wholly  with  Savary's  "Abrdge*  de  la  Vie." 
Gibbon's  "Decline  and  Fall"  he  read  faithfully,  alternating 
in  his  condemnation  and  his  praise:  "How  strangely  bitter 
without  a  bitter  word,  how  malignant  with  its  seeming  cour- 
tesy to  Christianity,  is  that  fiftieth  chapter  of  Gibbon !  "  He 
appreciates  Kenan's  subtle  and  ingenious  comments,  but 
thinks  him  guilty  of  overstatement.  Foster's  "Mohammed- 
anism Unveiled"  he  read  with  curious  interest  because  of 
its  point  of  view,  drawing  much  from  it  despite  his  repug- 
nance to  its  methods.  He  went  through  Milman's  "Latin 
Christianity"  with  admiration;  it  was  then  a  fresh  book 
which  all  were  reading.  Many  hints  he  gained  from  Neander, 
Gieseler  and  Hase,  and  other  German  church  historians,  from 
Stanley  also  in  his  "Eastern  Church,"  from  Maurice's  "Re- 
ligions of  the  World;"  and  he  did  not  neglect  studies  in 
reviews.  He  browsed  over  Weil's  "The  Bible,  the  Koran, 
and  the  Talmud, "and  his  "Mohammed  der  Prophet,  sein 
Leben  und  seine  Lehre."  Of  Sprenger's  "Life  of  Moham- 
med "  he  remarks  that  "for  careful,  thoughtful  fact-telling  it 
is  worth  all  the  rest  together."  He  would  give  a  good  deal 
if  he  could  get  hold  of  another  promised  work  of  Sprenger's, 
a  chronological  history  of  the  Koran  which  will  trace  the 
religion  philosophically  in  its  growth,  for  it  would  give 
what  he  can  nowhere  find.  Sale's  "Koran  with  Notes  and 
Preliminary  Discourse,"  Gagnier's  "La  Vie  de  Mahomet," 
Washington  Irving's  "Mahomet  and  his  Successors,"  Bou- 
lanvillier's  "Life  of  Mohammed,"  these  also  were  put  under 
contribution  to  the  total  picture  in  his  mind.  The  list  of 


MT.  28]     THE  POLITICAL  REFORMER      501 

books  he  consulted  was  not  of  course  exhaustive ;  there  were 
many  to  which  he  had  not  access,  but  it  is  sufficient  to  show 
how  widely  he  studied  his  subject. 

In  this  course  of  study,  which  continued  through  the  year 
1864  and  the  first  half  of  1865,  his  mind  and  whole  nature 
was  expanding.  It  became  the  foundation  of  later  historical 
studies.  He  realized  his  valuable  gift  of  the  historical  imagi- 
nation, which  enabled  him  to  see  things  as  they  were,  to  live 
in  them  and  reproduce  them.  The  same  power  by  which  he 
read  the  men  of  his  own  time  helped  him  to  know  the  per- 
sonages whom  he  encountered  in  history,  till  he  thought  of 
them  as  personal  acquaintances  and  friends.  He  recognized 
the  romantic  interest  in  history,  quickly  detecting  the  pic- 
turesque possibilities  which  make  it  live  to  the  imagination. 
He  was  haunted  by  the  strange,  mysterious  personages  that 
flitted  over  the  scene,  whose  motives  he  could  not  fathom. 
He  was  tempted  to  indulge  in  reconstructions,  —  how  things 
would  have  gone  if  there  had  been  the  slight  change  in  their 
antecedents  so  easily  conceivable. 

It  is  curious  to  ask  if  the  Jews  had  accepted  Mohammed 
and  Jerusalem  had  continued  the  Kebla,  how  far  Islamism  and 
Judaism  could  have  coalesced. 

The  deficiency  in  the  theistic  idea  of  the  Mohammedans, 
says  Neander,  was  a  lack  of  intimate  power  of  connecting  between 
the  human  and  the  divine,  robbing  Islam  on  its  Hebrew  side  of 
any  power  such  as  came  from  a  Messiah,  and  on  its  Christian  side 
making  it  impossible  to  acknowledge  a  Trinity. 

It  made  the  doctrine  of  the  infinite  sublimity  of  God  its  basis, 
as  Gieseler  says,  but  in  a  way  so  one-sided  that  an  absolute  de- 
pendence of  man  on  God  resulted  from  it,  and  ideas  of  a  likeness 
and  an  inward  union  between  God  and  man,  and  consequently  the 
fundamental  principles  of  all  the  higher  morality,  found  no  place 
in  the  system. 

Nothing  could  convince  us  like  the  extreme  accuracy  of  Spren- 
ger's  "Life,"  etc.,  how  human  Mohammed  was,  and  how  divine 
his  descendants  thought  him. 

Among  the  picturesque  scenes  which  strike  the  imagination 
are  the  conversation  of  Mohammed  with  the  Nestorian  monk  at 
Bosia;  Heraclius,  the  Roman  emperor,  receiving  Mohammed's 
letter,  and  putting  it  under  his  pillow ;  Chosroes,  the  Persian  king, 


502  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1864 

receiving  his  and  tearing  it  up ;  Mohammed  in  the  first  violent 
attack  of  his  last  illness  addressing  the  tenants  of  the  graves. 

The  fine  picture  of  the  idols,  questioned  at  the  last  day  whether 
they  or  the  idolaters  were  to  blame,  and  the  fault  cast  ou  the 
idolaters. 

The  Arabs  when  charged  with  stealing  give  for  an  excuse  the 
hard  treatment  of  Ishmael;  they  are  only  getting  their  rights. 
Subjective  character  of  sin ;  its  influence  by  habit. 

Converted  slaves  become  freedmen. 

The  dogma  of  the  Immaculate  Conception  is  borrowed  from  the 
Koran. 

When  Mohammed  expelled  the  images  from  the  holy  house, 
among  the  banished  gods  was  a  Byzantine  virgin  painted  on  a 
column,  holding  her  child  in  her  arms. 

The  whole  story  of  the  sacrifice  of  Isaac  is  told  of  Ishmael 
with  very  great  particularity. 

Take  these  figures,  the  "Sun  "  of  Christianity  and  the  "Moon  " 
of  Mohammedanism,  and  do  not  their  relations  in  many  ways  sus- 
tain the  metaphor? 

The  nobleness  of  Mohammed's  last  days. 

Why  may  we  not  say  this  about  Mohammed?  What  was  true 
in  his  faith  he  believed  truly,  but  it  was  not  his ;  he  found  it  in 
the  spirit  of  his  people  and  his  time.  What  was  untrue  was  his, 
but  he  never  believed  it  wholly  and  truly.  There  was  always  a 
mixture  of  imposture  in  it.  Thus  in  him,  as  ever,  the  eternal 
difference  of  truth  and  a  lie  is  vindicated. 

The  state  of  the  Christian  church,  with  its  infinite  sects  and 
heresies,  when  Mohammed  appeared  would  seem  to  explain  much 
of  his  perplexity  in  reducing  its  doctrine  to  shape.  His  epitome 
of  it  is  in  many  points  certainly  remarkable. 

It  is  a  striking  fact  that  the  two  great  powers  of  the  Papacy 
and  Islam  should  have  arisen  together,  reached  their  meridian 
grandeur  together,  and  together  have  declined,  with  the  rise  of 
Protestantism. 

Look  at  the  Neoplatonism  of  Ghazzaly,  the  Plotinus  of  Islam 
—  how  it  repeats  Alexandria  at  Mecca,  and  shows  us  the  eternal 
sameness  of  error. 

Ever  this  new  faith  touches  with  the  old.  It  is  not  a  new 
faith;  it  is  the  old.  It  is  another  Judaism,  more  human,  less 
divine.  It  is  the  neo-Judaism  of  decay;  and  Mohammed  is  to 
Moses  what  Plotinus  is  to  Plato. 

Why  should  a  prophet  with  miraculous  powers  have  suffered  hard- 
ship? Jamaly,  a  mystical  poet,  gets  over  this  difficulty  by  repre- 
senting his  life  as  an  allegory.  It  was  a  play  acted  in  reality, 


MT.  28]     THE  POLITICAL   REFORMER      503 

and  expressive  of  the  nature  of  God  and  the  laws  of  the  universe. 
Not  so  untrue,  O  Jamaly,  of  this  man's  or  any  man's  life. 

The  affinities  of  Islam  with  modern  Unitarianism,  their  at- 
tempted reunion,  and  especially  that  strange  story  of  the  visit  of 
Servetus  to  Africa. 

See  Leslie's  Works,  i.  207,  for  the  celebrated  address  of  the 
English  Unitarians,  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  to  Ameth  Ben 
Ameth,  ambassador  from  the  Emperor  of  Morocco.  "Ce  qui 
distingue  le  Socinianisme  de  la  religion  Mahometane  est  si  im- 
perceptible qu'il  n'y  a  que  des  inte'rets  humains  qui  puissent 
retenir  dans  sa  secte  un  Socinien  bien  instruit." 

This  too  is  striking.  "The  heretical  sects  of  Christianity  uni- 
formly incline  towards  Mohammedanism ;  the  heretical  sects  of 
Mohammedanism  generally  found  to  incline  toward  Christianity." 

I  gather  from  his  story  this,  —  that  he  was  at  first  a  religious 
enthusiast  of  the  practical  order,  truly,  humbly,  earnestly  at- 
tempting the  work  of  reforming  the  national  faith;  that  his 
enthusiasm  was  strong  enough  to  overbear  personal  difficulties  and 
disgraces  and  make  him  unselfish  in  the  consciousness  of  a  mis- 
sion; that  he  deduced  at  that  time  from  the  Christianity  and 
Judaism  with  which  he  came  in  contact  a  scheme  of  faith  wonder- 
fully simple  and  true  when  compared  with  many  of  the  Christian 
heresies  of  his  time.  The  change  comes  with  the  Hejirah.  He 
loses  with  the  unexpected  access  of  power,  first,  his  intentness, 
second,  his  simplicity  and  singleness  of  action,  third,  his  unselfish- 
ness. Passion  of  power  and  self-indulgence  sweep  him  unstably 
into  their  control,  but  the  better  spirit  is  underneath  all  the  time 
and  will  occasionally  burst  out.  The  Koran  comprises  the  record 
of  both  spirits,  and  its  personal  aspects  must  be  judged  by  his 
history.  All  his  powers  were  made  weak  with  unsystematicalness 
and  instability. 

What  shall  we  make  of  the  opposite  accounts  (cf . ,  for  instance, 
Kenan  and  Carlyle)  of  the  amount  of  belief  of  Moslems  in  Islam. 
What  but  this,  —  that  although  the  amount  of  special  faith  in 
Mohammed  and  his  teaching  was  but  slight  and  confined  to  a  few, 
the  truth  of  Islam,  its  central  and  more  general  truth,  was  needed 
and  seized  in  a  more  personal  faith  by  the  people  who  were  by 
God's  training  ready  for  it.  Mohammed  has  done  vast  harm.  I 
should  dishonor  God  if  I  did  not  believe  that  Islam  had  done 
good. 

Where  did  this  sublimity  come  from  into  the  Koran  ? 

"The    East    became   too   strait   for   them,  notwithstanding    its 
spaciousness, 


504  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1864 

And  their  souls  became  straitened  within  them ; 

And  they  considered  that  there  was  no  refuge  from  God, 

Otherwise  than  by  having  recourse  to  Him." 

This  is  Christianity,  come  it  whence  it  will. 

These  extracts  from  his  note-book,  while  they  have  an 
intrinsic  value,  are  given  here  chiefly  because  of  their  signifi- 
cance as  hints  in  his  theological  development.  The  effect 
upon  him  of  these  studies  was  more  important  than  he  could 
have  known  at  the  time,  continuing  to  manifest  itself  long 
after  he  had  dropped  the  subject.  To  know  any  line  of 
investigation  thoroughly  is  to  have  put  one's  self  in  rela- 
tion with  other  branches  of  inquiry,  so  that  one  is  able  to 
adjust  his  position  in  reference  to  other  issues.  He  was 
now  sounding  the  depths  of  theology  for  himself,  its  pro- 
blems were  before  him,  —  the  relation  of  the  will  of  God 
to  the  nature  of  God,  the  definition  of  humanity  and  its 
affinity  with  God,  the  mode  of  the  divine  revelation  when 
God  is  speaking  with  man,  the  place  of  the  book  in  the  his- 
tory of  revelation,  the  spirit  of  a  true  worship  of  God,  the 
significance  of  character  as  the  medium  of  divine  communi- 
cation, the  value  of  the  special  doctrines  or  the  creeds  of  the 
church,  above  all  the  person  of  Christ  in  the  accomplishment 
of  human  salvation.  As  we  cannot  appreciate  our  own 
things  without  knowledge  of  the  things  of  others,  so  we  can- 
not understand  our  own  religion  without  the  knowledge  of 
other  religions.  To  get  the  differentia  between  Mohammed- 
anism and  Christianity  is  to  enter  more  deeply  the  Christian 
sphere.  In  these  inquiries  he  also  kept  in  view  one  distinct 
purpose  of  his  own,  which  was  to  become  the  unifying  princi- 
ple of  his  method,  —  the  nature  and  source  of  power,  how  it 
was  to  be  fed,  how  ideas  and  truths  and  beliefs  were  to  be 
transmuted  into  power. 

That  he  was  already  on  the  right  road  for  the  solution  of 
his  problem  was  shown  by  an  address  which  he  delivered  in 
the  spring  of  this  year  before  the  Evangelical  Education 
Society,  then  recently  organized.  At  a  moment  when  the 
feeling  was  rife  that  the  Christian  ministry  could  no  longer 


JET.  28]     THE   POLITICAL   REFORMER      505 

compete  with  other  agencies  for  the  amelioration  of  society, 
he  maintained  that  the  pulpit  possessed  a  vast  advantage  in 
that  it  could  bring  to  bear  the  power  of  personality,  the 
mightiest  force  conceivable,  in  cooperation  with  the  moral 
appeal.  Behind  this  utterance,  which  left  an  impression  on 
those  who  listened  of  an  unwonted  message  for  the  hour, 
there  was  an  increased  inward  preparation  of  which  he  did  not 
speak,  the  secret  of  which  he  could  not  yet  reveal.  He  was 
to  wait  for  years  before  he  was  ready  to  give  the  message  in 
all  its  fulness. 

In  many  ways  this  year  1864  was  most  prolific  in  the 
spiritual  history  of  Phillips  Brooks,  when  all  the  conditions 
of  life,  of  theology,  and  of  religion  were  coming  together  in 
a  focus.  In  some  respects  they  were  greater  than  what  fol- 
lowed, because  he  was  now  in  the  glow  and  beauty  of  what 
seemed  immortal  youth,  the  freshness  of  the  morning  of 
divine  revelation.  At  this  time,  also,  he  was  outgrowing  what 
had  seemed  like  physical  weakness,  springing  from  the  sus- 
ceptibility and  delicacy  of  his  nervous  constitution.  His 
portrait  reveals  the  inward  happiness  and  satisfaction  of  his 
whole  being,  a  face  whose  beauty  shone  with  the  light  of  a 
growing  holiness,  —  that  quality  which  is  the  "  absolute  har- 
mony of  inward  desire  with  outward  obligation."  The  in- 
ward consecration  to  a  perfect  obedience  brought  him  into 
loving  relationship  with  God  and  man.  This  inner  life  of 
his  manhood  hid  with  Christ  in  God  he  carefully  shielded 
from  observation,  but  it  was  revealed  unreservedly  in  the 
pulpit.  He  took  the  world  of  humanity  into  his  confidence, 
however  reserved  in  his  private  conversation. 

If  there  had  been  traces  of  depression  in  his  home  corre- 
spondence in  the  previous  year,  they  have  now  disappeared. 
There  is,  to  be  sure,  the  same  sensitiveness  to  the  weather, 
the  invariable  comment  on  the  day  or  the  season  as  bright  or 
dark ;  he  even  dreads  a  long  railway  journey.  But  for  the 
rest,  there  is  the  freedom  and  light-heartedness  of  a  buoyant, 
happy  youth.  Life  was  constantly  growing  richer  and  fuller, 
bringing  new  friendships  and  expanding  in  every  direction. 
Among  those  whom  he  met  for  the  first  time  were  Bishop 


5o6  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1864 

Mcllvaine  of  Ohio,  and  his  family,  with  some  of  the  mem- 
bers  of  which  he  maintained  afterward  a  close  friendship. 
He  met  the  late  Elisha  Mulford,  rector  of  a  quiet  parish  in 
New  Jersey,  deeply  interested  in  following  the  war,  and  al- 
ready maturing  in  his  mind  his  work  entitled  "The  Nation," 
and  the  Rev.  William  It.  Huntington,  rector  of  All  Saints' 
Church  in  Worcester. 

The  year  was  rendered  richer  and  happier  in  other  ways. 
He  was  reading  Greek  with  his  young  friend  James  P. 
Franks,  afterwards  the  rector  of  Grace  Church,  Salem,  and 
between  the  two  there  was  an  intimate  friendship.  Then  his 
brother  Frederick  came  at  last  to  the  Divinity  School,  bring- 
ing with  him,  as  it  were,  part  of  the  old  home  in  Chauncy 
Street,  ^  Boston.  Through  Frederick  he  entered  into  closer 
relationships  with  the  theological  students,  making  them  his 
friends,  eager  to  know  how  their  minds  were  turning  in  that 
day  of  changes  in  religious  thought. 

His  interest  in  humanity  and  in  human  personality  shines 
out  more  and  more  distinctly.  He  liked  to  meet  people.  It 
was  an  event  with  him  to  know  Mr.  Goldwin  Smith,  who  was 
then  visiting  Philadelphia.  He  had  another  peculiarity  in 
that  he  liked  to  listen  to  public  speakers  and  lecturers. 
Earlier  in  his  life  he  recorded  his  conviction  that  the  lecturer 
has  a  great  opportunity.  When  a  man  of  ability  and  repu- 
tation gathers  himself  up  for  a  public  utterance,  he  seems  to 
have  felt  it  not  only  a  duty,  but  a  privilege  to  be  there  to 
listen.  In  this  respect  he  resembled  his  father,  whose  way 
it  was  to  learn  from  living  men ;  for  the  man  and  his  mes- 
sage were  intertwined  as  if  in  organic  relation.  Thus  he 
listened  to  many  lecturers,  to  his  kinsmen,  Edward  Everett 
and  Wendell  Phillips,  to  Richard  H.  Dana,  and  to  Henry 
Ward  Beecher.  All  through  his  life  he  kept  this  practice, 
sitting  as  a  pupil  at  the  feet  of  the  living  personal  oracle. 
It  seemed  to  stimulate  his  mind  and  all  his  powers  as  no 
book  could  do.  But  he  was  engaged  in  an  inward  process 
while  he  listened,  putting  things  together  which  others  sepa- 
rated, making  studies  in  every  failure  as  well  as  in  every 
success. 


MT.  28]     THE   POLITICAL  REFORMER      507 

The  chief  event  in  the  history  of  the  war  was  the  appoint- 
ment of  General  U.  S.  Grant,  in  the  spring  of  1864,  to  the  com- 
mand of  all  the  forces  of  the  United  States,  with  the  title  of 
lieutenant-general.  With  the  approval  of  General  Grant,  the 
movement  of  an  army  of  60,000  men  was  accomplished  under 
General  W.  T.  Sherman,  through  the  Confederate  States  from 
the  mountains  to  the  sea,  from  Atlanta,  which  was  captured, 
to  Savannah;  then  northward  to  Charleston  in  South  Caro- 
lina, and  thence  further  northward  to  Goldsboro,  in  North 
Carolina,  thus  isolating  Richmond  from  the  South.  General 
Grant  himself  now  initiated  the  last  stage  of  the  war,  but  a 
year  was  yet  to  elapse  before  the  final  surrender  of  the  South- 
ern capital.  In  the  months  of  May  and  June  came  the  ter- 
rible battles  of  the  Wilderness,  of  Spottsylvania,  and  of  Cold 
Harbor,  in  which  perished  70,000  men.  Activities  on  a 
vast  scale  were  projected  in  the  Northern  cities,  under  the 
auspices  of  the  Sanitary  Commission,  for  the  purpose  of 
assisting  the  government  in  the  care  of  sick  and  wounded 
soldiers.  The  great  fairs  in  Philadelphia  and  New  York, 
Boston  and  elsewhere,  were  gigantic  undertakings,  rousing 
popular  enthusiasm,  and  tending  to  unify  and  solidify  the 
Northern  sentiment.  These  things  and  others  of  a  similar 
character  were  prominent  in  the  mind  of  Mr.  Brooks  as  the 
home  letters  testify.  He  continued  to  write  home  every 
week ;  but  at  this  time  the  letters  from  his  mother  were  rare. 

PHILADELPHIA,  March  12,  1864. 

Among  other  sensations  comes  our  great  fair.  Immense  pre- 
parations are  making,  and  people  are  talking  about  $500,000. 
Dr.  Bellows  and  Bishop  Clark  spoke  at  a  sensation  meeting  on  the 
subject  the  other  evening  at  the  Academy  of  Music.  All  the 
girls  are  making  afghans  and  all  the  men  are  begging  money,  and 
the  whole  thing  promises  splendidly.  Come  and  see  it.  What  do 
you  think  of  the  Richmond  atrocities,  —  "  The  Barbarism  of  Slav- 
ery "  as  your  worthy  senator  called  it,  —  of  whom,  by  the  way,  I 
think  more  than  you  do.  What  an  accursed  system  it  is  with  all 
its  fruits  in  crops  and  character,  both  black.  Are  n't  you  glad  of 
Chase's  noble  letter  of  withdrawal?  Of  course  Wendell  Phillips 
and  the  Commonwealth  will  blaze  away,  but  I  believe  in  Old  Abe 
still,  just  as  I  did  that  night  at  the  Academy.  By  the  way,  I  am 


5o8  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1864 

to  appear  on  their  boards  again  next  week  at  a  meeting  in  behalf 
of  the  poor  wretched  Cherokees.  How  well  Boston  is  doing  for  the 
loyal  Tennesseeans.  I  am  glad  you  have  got  Edward  Everett  at 
your  good  work.  It  is  pleasant  to  see  people  working  up  their  old 
waste  material.  We  are  getting  ready  for  confirmation,  which  is  to 
come  about  the  middle  of  May.  Don't  forget  the  Holy  Trinity. 

Easter  Sunday,  A.  M.,  March  27,  1864. 

You  were  very  considerate  in  thinking  that  I  should  be  pretty 
busy  this  past  week.  So  I  was,  but  it  is  over  now,  and  I  don't 
know  how  I  can  keep  this  half  hour  of  Easter  Sunday  before  it 
is  time  to  go  to  church  better  than  by  a  few  words  with  you. 
What  a  glorious  Easter  Day  it  is!  Yesterday  up  to  midnight 
all  rain  and  mud.  This  morning  bright  and  fresh  and  glorious. 
Truly,  the  world  itself  keeps  Easter  Day.  I  have  enjoyed  Lent 
very  much  indeed.  Have  had  my  regular  two  services  a  week, 
and  this  last  week  services  every  day.  Thursday  evening  we 
had  the  communion  service.  To-day  I  am  going  to  preach  on 
Acts  xxv.  19. 

I  am  going  on  to  New  York  next  week  if  I  am  not  kept  here 
by  an  impending  wedding.  At  any  rate  I  am  to  exchange  with 
Ewer  of  Christ  Church,  Sunday  after  next.  In  May  I  am  going 
to  Pittsburg  and  perhaps  further  West ;  and  between  now  and  then 
I  am  going  on  to  Washington  to  preach  in  the  Hall  of  Represent- 
atives by  the  invitation  of  Mr.  Channing,  their  chaplain.  So  you 
see  I  am  pretty  well  used  up  this  spring.  Besides  this  I  have 
got  a  sermon  to  write  for  the  Anniversary  of  the  Sunday-school 
Union  in.  May.  Now  you  certainly  can't  complain  that  I  have  n't 
told  you  enough  about  myself  in  this  letter.  Every  paragraph 
has  begun  with  "I." 

Tuesday  evening,  April  12,  1864. 

I  am  just  back  from  New  York,  called  home  rather  sooner 
than  I  had  expected,  to  attend  a  funeral.  You  must  forgive  my 
neglect  of  last  Saturday.  Dr.  Vinton's  is  no  place  to  write  let- 
ters from ;  in  fact,  it  is  not  a  nice  place  for  anything  but  just 
to  talk  and  talk  and  talk.  Very  nice  for  that.  I  enjoyed  my 
visit  ever  so  much,  but  still  am  rather  glad  to  get  back  again  to 
work.  The  New  York  fair  is  fine,  particularly  the  collection  of 
pictures,  which  is  the  finest  I  ever  saw.  That  is  the  great  ob- 
ject of  attraction.  What  a  great  place  New  York  is. 

Saturday  afternoon,  April  23,  1864. 

Oh,  if  I  were  only  in  Boston.  Three  months  yet  to  wait. 
But  if  you  '11  always  write  as  good  letters  as  your  last  one  was, 
they  '11  go  oft*  pretty  fast,  and  I  shan't  mind  them  much.  It 


AT.  28]     THE   POLITICAL  REFORMER       509 

was  one  of  your  very  best.  And  then  I  have  got  Father's  and 
Mother's  visit  of  week  after  next  to  look  forward  to,  —  that  is 
my  great  sensation  now.  If  I  can  make  them  enjoy  themselves 
they  certainly  shall.  They  will  be  here  right  in  the  glory  of  our 
spring  weather.  Tell  them  to  let  me  know  as  soon  as  they  can 
just  what  day  they  '11  be  here,  so  that  I  can  secure  them  a  good 
room.  We  are  busy  in  the  church  now.  Last  Sunday  afternoon 
we  had  our  Sunday-school  Anniversary.  The  church  was  loaded 
with  flowers  and  children,  and  everything  went  off  very  happily. 

I  am  sorry  Fred  could  not  stop.  I  should  like  to  have  seen 
the  boy.  I  am  very  glad  he  has  made  up  his  mind  to  come  here. 
Dr.  Butler  has  accepted  the  professorship  which  I  did  n't  take, 
and  will  be  just  the  man  for  it. 

Saturday,  May  7, 1864. 

The  visit  is  in  progress !  The  Folks  are  here !  Philadelphia 
rejoices  and  swelters  as  if  it  were  July.  Another  of  my  seasons 
of  haunting  the  Continental  has  begun.  I  dine  there  every  day 
and  get  on  familiar  terms  with  the  man  at  the  office.  They 
arrived  yesterday  afternoon  in  very  good  condition,  and  after  din- 
ner I  brought  them  up  and  carried  them  all  over  the  church  and 
brought  them  to  my  rooms. 

We  are  almost  listening  to-day  for  the  cannon  on  the  Rapidan. 
The  greatest  fight  of  the  war  is  going  on,  and  God  only  knows  its 
issue.  Before  you  get  this  we  shall  be  either  close  on  peace,  or 
way  back  with  half  the  work  to  do  over  again.  But  we  '11  do  it, 
either  now  or  ten  years  hence,  whenever  God  wills.  .  .  . 

Great  expectations  had  been  raised  when  General  Grant 
took  command  of  the  army  in  front  of  Richmond.  The 
month  of  May,  however,  proved  to  be  one  of  the  most  fearful 
months  of  the  long  struggle.  Even  Grant  did  not  meet  with 
success.  It  began  to  look  as  if  Richmond  were  never  to  be 
taken.  In  his  diary  Mr.  Brooks  records  the  fleeting  impres- 
sions of  those  days  of  suspense  and  horror :  — 

May  7.  Grant  moving  against  Richmond.  Great  suspense 
and  anxiety  for  him. 

May  8.     Good  news  from  Grant. 

May  11.  Great  excitement  all  day  in  receiving  news  from  the 
army  in  Virginia. 

May  12.     Good  news  from  Virginia.     Grant  is  driving  Lee. 

May  16.  All  day  doubtful  whether  to  go  to  the  Army.  Had 
to  give  it  up  at  last. 


5io  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1864 

Saturday,  May  21,  1864. 

I  suppose  the  good  Pa  and  Ma  are  safe  home  by  this  time, 
and  have  told  you  of  our  meeting  in  Broadway.  I  came  back 
here  on  Thursday,  and  settled  down  to  work.  Next  Monday  I 
am  off  again  to  Pittsburg,  where  I  shall  spend  the  week  of  Con- 
vention. Fred,  I  suppose,  is  still  at  Fredericksburg.  I  am  so 
glad  he  has  gone.  It  will  be  a  great  pleasure  and  a  good  thing 
for  him.  I  have  heard  nothing  from  him.  I  am  writing  my 
sermon  for  the  Sunday-school  Union.  It  will  be  preached  to- 
morrow night.  I  do  not  know  how  it  will  go.  I  have  told 
them  plainly  that  it  is  their  bounden  duty  to  teach  the  children 
of  the  country  the  duty  of  loyalty  and  the  sin  of  slavery,  that  if 
they  shirk  that  duty  they  will  be  in  part  responsible  for  some 
future  generations  having  to  go  through  this  fearful  education 
some  day  again.  It  will  be  printed  unless  they  think  it  u  too 
radical.  I  will  send  you  a  copy. 

Our  hopes  are  all  in  front  of  Richmond,  and  there  has  been 
nothing  yet  to  dampen  them.  God  grant  there  may  not  be.  I 
am  sicker  and  sicker  at  heart  every  day  for  this  fearful  loss  of 
precious  life.  It  must  bring  something.  We  have  not  got 
Richmond  yet,  nor  shall  we  have  immediately.  We  must  be 
patient.  It  will  come  in  time,  we  must  believe.  Meanwhile  we 
can  do  nothing  but  wait  and  pray. 

Our  winter's  work  here  is  pretty  much  over.  The  people  are 
beginning  to  go  out  of  town,  and  the  church  work  is  finished.  I 
sent  Mother  our  report  yesterday.  Last  Sunday  was  our  confir- 
mation at  the  church  and  the  chapel.  We  had  large  classes  at 
both. 

While  he  was  in  Pittsburg,  attending  the  Episcopal  Dio- 
cesan Convention,  he  delivered  his  sermon  on  the  Prayer 
Book.  It  had  been  written  as  one  of  a  series,  first  given  in 
St.  Mark's  Church  in  New  York,  and  again  delivered  in 
Grace  Church,  Providence.  The  movement  known  as  Ritu- 
alism was  then  in  its  early  stages,  seeking  for  its  sanction  in 
the  Book  of  Common  Prayer.  The  plea  urged  in  its  behalf 
was  the  need  of  some  strong,  tangible  protest  against  the 
unbelief,  the  skepticism,  the  prevailing  materialism  of  the 
age.  Mr.  Brooks  called  attention  to  another  and  a  better 
way.  His  text  was  from  Exodus  xxv.  22 :  "And  I  will  com- 
mune with  thee  from  above  the  mercy  seat."  He  maintained 
that  what  the  skepticism  of  the  day  needed  is  not  new  proof  of 


MT.  28]     THE  POLITICAL  REFORMER      511 

abstract  truths,  but  new  demonstrations  of  their  personal 
power ;  not  more  study,  but  more  prayer.  The  Prayer  Book 
furnished  an  antidote  to  secularism  in  the  thought  of  the 
Fatherhood  of  God,  making  an  atmosphere  so  pure  that  in  it 
secularism  cannot  thrive.  The  Prayer  Book  made  truth 
evident,  not  so  much  by  the  clearness  with  which  it  defines  it, 
as  by  the  light  with  which  it  fills  it.  It  turns  the  stories  of 
the  Bible  into  the  parables  of  common  life.  The  only  way 
to  make  men  orthodox  as  to  special  beliefs  was  to  make  the 
great  Christian  truths  self-demonstrated  by  the  vigor  with 
which  they  shape  themselves  into  Christian  duty  and  Chris- 
tian life.  The  Prayer  Book  is  full  of  doctrines,  and  yet 
fills  them  through  and  through  with  the  interest  of  human 
life.  It  never  tells  men  what  to  believe  without  telling,  them 
what  blessing  will  come  from  such  a  belief.  He  urged  a 
more  intellectual  study  of  the  Prayer  Book,  and  a  higher 
intellectual  estimate  of  its  value.  It  had  in  it  the  eternal 
power  of  the  Bible  to  meet  all  ages,  and  to  suit  the  newest 
circumstances  of  the  newest  age  the  best. 

But  the  convention  at  Pittsburg  was  a  grievous  disappoint- 
ment to  Mr.  Brooks  in  its  failure  to  adopt  a  strong  anti- 
slavery  position.  "The  anti-slavery  resolutions  presented  by 
Dr.  Goodwin  were  supplanted  by  Dr.  Van  Deusen's  substi- 
tute. Shameful!"  So  reads  his  diary.  In  a  letter  to  his 
brother  he  recurs  to  the  subject.  Pittsburg  would  not  per- 
haps have  looked  to  him  so  dark,  if  it  had  not  corresponded 
with  some  inner  mood  of  shame  for  the  defeat  of  his  cherished 
ideal. 

June  4, 1864. 

I  have  been  to  Pittsburg  and  am  home  again.  Congratulate 
me.  I  had  so  many  things  to  do  at  home  that  I  was  obliged 
to  give  up  my  plan  of  going  further  West.  Pittsburg  is  a  hor- 
rible place,  black  and  muddy,  the  filthiest  hole  on  earth.  I  am 
scarcely  clean  yet  after  it.  The  ride  there  was  magnificent.  We 
went  the  first  day  to  Altona,  where  we  spent  the  night,  and 
early  the  next  morning  crossed  the  Alleghanies.  Cooper  and  I 
were  fortunate  enough  to  make  interest  with  the  railroad  agent 
and  rode  on  the  engine  over  the  mountains.  It  was  very  grand 
indeed.  Our  Convention  was  a  shameful  failure.  We  asked  that 


PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1864 

body  of  Christian  ministers  and  laymen  to  say  that  treason  was 
wicked  and  slavery  a  sin.  They  declined,  and  substituted  some 
feeble  platitudes  done  up  in  wretched  rhetoric  which  meant  nothing 
and  said  it.  I  was  ashamed  of  my  church.  Never  mind;  the 
salvation  of  the  country  does  not  depend  on  the  Episcopal  Church, 
and  glad  as  I  should  have  been  to  see  her  as  a  body  on  the  right 
side  now,  she  will  have  to  come  there  by  and  by  when  it  will  be 
no  honor  to  herself.  Oh,  how  I  hate  this  miserable  conservatism. 
I  almost  cried  for  the  church  at  Pittsbnrg. 

I  have  been  very  hard  at  work  since  my  return  upon  my  ser- 
mon. Everybody  is  crazy  about  our  fair.  It  opens  next  Tues- 
day. It  will  be  very  fine  and  make  a  million  dollars. 

Neither  at  this  time,  nor  at  any  time  in  his  life,  did  Mr. 
Brooks  take  an  interest  in  ecclesiastical  conventions.  He 
attended  them,  but  it  was  a  burden  to  his  soul.  To  escape 
for  a  moment  from  their  dreary  sessions  in  the  glad  con- 
verse with  a  friend,  sitting  down  on  the  doorstep  of  the  build- 
ing where  the  ecclesiastical  process  went  on,  seems  to  have 
been  almost  essential  to  enable  him  to  endure  them  at  all. 
In  later  years  he  strove  to  overcome  this  repugnance,  sub- 
mitting patiently,  keeping  his  place  without  intermissions, 
and  occasionally  taking  part  in  the  discussions.  But  even 
so,  it  was  all  a  thing  apart  from  the  spirit  within  him. 

As  the  summer  approached,  he  was  looking  forward  eagerly 
to  the  return  to  his  home,  as  though  he  had  been  an  impatient 
exile. 

Saturday,  Jane  18,  1864. 

You  must  engage  three  horses,  not  two.  Two  weeks  from  next 
Tuesday  afternoon  at  five  is  the  time.  Where  shall  we  go?  You 
are  expected  to  be  our  guide.  Before  that  time,  perhaps,  we 
shall  have  hurrahed  for  Richmond,  and  thanked  God  for  Grant. 
Everything  certainly  looks  full  of  promise,  and  't  is  hard  to  see 
how  we  can  fail. 

I  had  a  letter  from  Fred  this  morning  at  White  House,  expect- 
ing to  start  off  for  James  River.  He  is  a  good  specimen  of  a 
Brooks  Boy.  I  am  going  to  spend  Sunday,  a  week  from  to- 
morrow, in  Elizabeth,  N.  J.,  then  come  back  here  for  a  week,  and 
be  off  the  Fourth.  I  hope  it  is  n't  wrong  to  travel  on  the  glorious 
anniversary,  but  I  feel  so  anxious  to  get  home  that  I  feel  it 
wouldn't  be  very  wrong  to  travel  on  Sunday  to  get  there.  We 
have  had  Old  Abe  with  us  this  week  at  the  Fair.  He  was  look- 


MT.  28]     THE   POLITICAL   REFORMER      513 

ing  well  and  seemed  to  enjoy  himself.  I  heard  him  speak,  and 
shook  hands  with  him.  Is  n't  it  good  to  think  that  we  are  going 
to  have  him  for  our  next  President  ? 

Our  Fair  is  a  great  success.  It  is  incessantly  crowded,  and  is 
making  an  immense  amount  of  money.  The  whole  city  is  alive 
with  it,  and  I  think  it  is  going  to  do  good  in  more  ways  than  one. 
It  keeps  people's  loyalty  alive  and  their  sympathies  active.  We 
are  having  a  glorious  summer  so  far,  scarcely  any  warm  weather 
yet,  good  weather  for  fighting  and  for  sermon-writing.  I  hope 
also  for  bank-lettering. 

This  is  my  last  regular  letter  to  you  before  I  come  home. 
Do  you  realize  it,  old  fellow  ?  Hurrah ! 

Before  leaving  Philadelphia  he  preached  an  ordination 
sermon,  June  30,  at  Grace  Church,  from  Revelation  xxii. 
13:  "I  am  Alpha  and  Omega,  the  beginning  and  the  end, 
the  first  and  the  last."  A  writer  for  the  "Press,"  comment- 
ing at  this  time  on  his  preaching,  says:  "There  is  some- 
thing so  genuine  in  Mr.  Brooks 's  sermons  that  we  no  more 
feel  that  we  are  praising  him  when  we  are  admiring  them 
than  we  do  when  we  admire  ripe  fruit,  and  pluck  and  eat  it 
with  relish  and  feel  refreshed  by  it,  that  we  are  praising  the 
soil  out  of  which  it  grows.  His  sermons  remain  in  the  mind, 
not  as  pictures  of  plants  in  a  parlor  or  conservatory,  but  as 
the  plants  themselves,  with  all  their  life  and  greenery  and 
fragrance." 

The  first  month  of  his  vacation  was  spent  with  his  family 
in  Boston,  and  the  routine  of  happy  days  went  on  as  in  pre- 
vious years.  He  rode  horseback  through  the  suburbs;  he 
indulged  in  fishing  and  in  bathing  at  the  beaches  in  the 
vicinity  of  Boston.  He  went  out  to  Cambridge  to  see  his 
brother  Arthur  in  college,  and  attended  the  Commencement 
of  the  Harvard  Divinity  School,  listening  to  an  address  by 
the  late  Dr.  Hedge.  He  visited  the  old  homestead  in  An- 
dover,  with  his  mother ;  he  gave  a  few  days  to  Dr.  Vinton 
at  Pornfret  in  Connecticut.  All  the  time  he  could  com- 
mand was  given  to  the  Athenaeum,  where  he  sat  a  voracious 
reader  of  all  the  new  books  on  its  tables,  and  renewed  his 
familiarity  with  its  theological  alcoves,  lest  anything  in  its 
shelves  should  escape  his  notice.  Again,  he  was  at  the 


5H  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1864 

bookshops,  recording  purchases  for  his  library  in  his  diary. 
One  new  incident  was  important  to  him,  as  to  so  many  others 
at  that  time  in  Boston  and  elsewhere,  —  the  Great  Organ,  as 
it  was  called,  which  had  been  recently  placed  in  Music  Hall. 
He  was  fond  of  the  organ  as  a  revelation  of  the  power  of 
musical  sound.  The  month  of  August  was  spent  camping 
out  in  the  lakes  of  Maine,  where  he  was  accompanied  by  his 
friends  Cooper  and  Strong.  He  speaks  with  enthusiasm 
of  the  glorious  campfires  in  the  evening.  But,  as  on  pre- 
vious occasions,  he  did  not  linger  in  the  scene  of  enjoyment 
until  the  last  day  of  his  vacation  should  expire.  He  re- 
turned to  Boston  on  August  25,  with  five  days  remaining 
before  he  must  return  to  work,  and  in  those  days  again  he 
wrote  his  sermon  to  be  preached  on  the  first  Sunday  after 
his  arrival  in  Philadelphia.  He  could  not  have  done  this  if 
already  in  spirit  he  were  not  present  in  his  parish. 

The  routine  of  parish  life  began  on  the  first  Sunday  in 
September :  the  writing  of  sermons,  and  his  studies  in  com- 
parative religion  of  which  he  began  to  see  the  scope  when  he 
looked  into  the  meaning  of  Islam.  He  resumed  his  reading  in 
Greek  with  Mr.  Franks,  his  place  on  the  musical  committee 
with  Mr.  Redner  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Walden.  Although  he 
had  been  excused  from  making  calls  on  his  parishioners,  yet 
he  did  not  abuse  his  freedom,  but  rather  was  stimulated  by 
it  to  greater  diligence  in  parochial  duties.  He  gives  a 
backward  glance  as  he  nerves  himself  to  a  greater  year  of 
work,  to  the  achievements  of  a  greater  success  than  he  had 
yet  realized.  Among  minor  incidents  was  the  change  of  his 
rooms  from  Locust  Street  to  1333  Spruce  Street. 

1333  SPBUCK  STREET,  Saturday  evening,  September  3, 1864. 

The  church  is  all  ready  to  open,  and  a  variety  of  little  altera- 
tions have  resulted  in  a  very  decided  total  of  improvement.  The 
people  are  largely  out  of  town  still  and  we  shall  have  thin  houses 
to-morrow.  It  rains  to-night. 

Here  I  am  talking  away  about  myself  as  if  I  did  n't  care  any- 
thing about  the  splendid  news  from  Sherman  to-day.  Is  n't  it 
glorious?  A  few  more  steps  like  this,  and  we  shall  have  peace 
earlier  than  the  Copperheads  could  bring  it,  and  a  better  one  than 
they  want  to  see. 


.  28]     THE  POLITICAL  REFORMER      515 

I  'Ve  had  a  splendid  vacation.  The  best  part  of  it  what  I 
spent  at  home. 

To  his  father,  who  had  been  guilty  of  some  lapse  from  his 
own  strict  rules  regarding  the  necessity  of  observing  the  con- 
ditions of  time  and  space,  he  sends  a  reprimand :  — 

PHILADELPHIA,  September  12, 1804. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  Once  there  was  a  gentleman  in  Boston,  and 
he  had  a  son  who  was  a  minister  in  Philadelphia,  and  he  used  to 
upbraid  his  son  and  tell  him  he  was  an  unpractical,  unbusinesslike 
fellow  whenever  he  got  a  letter  from  him  which  did  n't  have  the 
date  in  full,  and  all  about  the  place  it  was  written  in,  and  all 
that.  But  one  day  the  minister  in  Philadelphia  got  a  letter  from 
the  hardware  merchant  in  Boston,  enclosed  in  the  envelope  with 
the  queer  direction  which  you  will  find  with  this.  And  after 
that  the  minister  did  just  as  he  pleased  about  the  dates,  and  all 
that,  of  his  letters,  for  he  thought  he  had  got  the  practical,  syste- 
matic, businesslike  merchant  pretty  fairly.  Don't  you  think  he 
had? 

I  was  glad  to  get  your  letter  anyway,  unlikely  as  I  was  to 
receive  it  with  that  direction.  William's  has  just  been  brought 
in.  I  judge  from  both  that  things  are  going  on  in  the  old  smooth, 
nice  way  at  home.  I  wish  I  were  there  very  often. 

People  are  slowly  getting  back.  The  church  is  filling  up,  yes- 
terday it  was  quite  full.  People  were  evidently  expecting  a  poli- 
tical sermon,  but  they  did  n't  get  it.  I  read  the  Proclamation 
and  all  the  Thanksgivings  I  could  find.  Mr.  Coffin  is  still  away, 
so  that  the  church  doesn't  really  seem  like  itself. 

As  to  the  seminary  [his  father  had  asked  him  what  his  ex- 
penses were  while  at  the  Virginia  seminary] :  board  there  was 
$100  per  annum.  It  cost  me  that  for  two  years.  The  last  year 
the  board  was  covered  by  my  teaching  in  the  preparatory  depart- 
ment. My  expenses  outside  of  the  board  I  think  were  $100  a 
year.  I  lived  cheap  there. 

The  new  rooms  are  first-rate.  Everything  goes  smoothly  and 
I  am  very  happy.  Love  to  all. 

Your  affectionate  son,          PHILL. 

The  Thanksgiving  Day  above  referred  to  was  a  special 
occasion  appointed  by  President  Lincoln  on  September  11, 
to  commemorate  the  victories  of  Sherman  and  Thomas,  the 
capture  of  the  important  city  of  Atlanta,  which  closed  the 
campaign  in  the  West,  and  the  beginning  of  Sherman's 


516  PHILLIPS    BROOKS  [1864 

march  to  the  sea.  The  entire  Union  army  of  some  million 
of  men  was  now  at  liberty  to  concentrate  its  strength  on  the 
reduction  of  Richmond.  The  chief  political  event  in  the  fall 
of  1864  was  the  reelection  to  the  presidency  of  Abraham 
Lincoln.  McClellan  was  the  rival  candidate,  and  in  Phila- 
delphia had  a  large  following.  There  was  a  small  party  in 
the  country,  composed  of  extremists,  who  were  dissatisfied 
with  Lincoln  because  he  had  not  assumed  a  more  definite  at- 
titude in  regard  to  slavery.  These  cast  their  votes  for  Fre- 
mont. Mr.  Brooks,  although  inclined  to  extreme  views  in 
regard  to  slavery,  and  recognizing  the  object  of  the  war  to 
be  its  extinction,  yet  also  kept  in  view  the  maintenance  of 
national  unity  as  a  high  spiritual  aim,  and  on  this  ground 
was  an  ardent  supporter  of  Lincoln.  These  events  found 
mention  in  his  weekly  letters  to  his  brother. 

PHILADELPHIA,  September  19, 1864. 

I  had  a  full  but  very  pleasant  day  yesterday.  Read  and 
preached  in  the  Holy  Trinity  in  the  morning.  In  the  after- 
noon went  out  to  Camp  William  Penn,  and  addressed  two  regi- 
ments of  colored  troops  who  leave  for  the  front  this  week,  and 
in  the  evening  preached  at  Cheltenham,  near  the  camp,  where  I 
spent  the  night  with  some  parishioners  of  mine  at  their  summer 
place.  I  had  a  splendid  audience  of  negroes.  They  are  a  noble- 
looking  set  of  fellows.  What  do  you  think  of  politics  and  the 
election  ?  People  here  seem  very  confident  that  Lincoln  will  carry 
Pennsylvania  by  a  very  large  majority,  —  60, 000,  I  have  heard 
cool,  well-informed  people  say.  May  it  be  so.  We  shall  see  next 
month.  The  McClellan  men  had  a  great  demonstration  on  Satur- 
day night ;  they  were  out  in  immense  numbers  and  looked  formida- 
ble. I  believe  it  is  going  to  be  a  hard  fight.  I  had  an  application 
the  other  day  to  speak  at  some  church  anniversaries  which  are  to 
come  off  in  Boston  next  month.  I  would  like  to  come  on  of 
course,  but  don't  want  to  speak,  so  I  declined. 

Saturday  evening,  October  1,  1864. 

Again  before  Richmond.  Let  us  hope  and  pray  on  still  that 
more  may  come  of  this  new  move  than  of  any  before.  At  any 
rate  we  have  a  great  deal  to  rejoice  and  be  thankful  about  in 
Sheridan's  splendid  campaign.  I  dined  the  other  day  with  an 
English  clergyman,  and  saw  in  perfection  the  superciliousness 
and  self-conceit  which  has  characterized  the  most  chivalrous  and 


.  a8]     THE  POLITICAL  REFORMER      517 

philanthropic  of  people  all  through  our  war.  I  don't  want  to 
see  another  Englishman  till  we  can  hold  up  the  argument  of  a 
free,  united  country,  and  point  to  it  and  just  say,  "There!" 
Everybody  here  who  ought  to  know  seems  very  certain  of  a  tri- 
umphant reelection  for  Mr.  Lincoln. 

Saturday  evening,  October  29,  1864. 

While  I  write  the  city  is  all  alight  and  noisy  with  the  great 
Copperhead  procession;  the  streets  are  blocked  up  with  it.  I 
have  been  ever  so  long  getting  home  from  an  errand  uptown, 
through  endless  crowds  of  the  unwashed  who  were  cheering  for 
the  rebels  M.  and  P.  most  vociferously.  Well,  wait  till  after  the 
election,  and  then  let  us  see.  Our  men  are  working  hard  and 
are  very  confident,  and  say  there  is  no  chance  except  of  one  result. 
Last  night  Fred  and  I  went  to  hear  your  townsman,  Mr.  Dana. 
He  made  a  capital  speech,  and  was  followed  by  Governor  Brough 
of  Ohio,  who  is  a  brick  of  the  biggest  size.  I  see  you  have  been 
enjoying  Philadelphia  eloquence  in  Boston.  Mr. is  a  Cop- 
perhead, who  sold  his  pew  out  in  my  church  last  year,  because  he 
said  he  wasn't  black  enough  to  go  there.  He  is  a  pompous  old 
humbug,  and  his  orations  are  great  fun  here.  Dan  Dougherty  is 
a  "broth  of  a  boy,"  a  great  favorite  with  the  crowd,  and  a  veiy 
effective  speaker. 

The  State  of  Pennsylvania  went  ^Republican  by  about 
15,000  majority,  instead  of  50,000  as  was  expected.  This 
was  in  the  state  election.  Then  came  the  national  election 
on  November  8,  to  which  there  is  this  allusion  in  the  diary :  — 

Tuesday,  November  8, 1864. 

Election  Day.  Nine  A.  M.  Voted  for  Lincoln  and  Johnson. 
Cooper  called,  and  I  went  with  him  and  Yocum  to  see  how  the 
election  was  progressing.  Dined  at  his  house  with  Strong  and 
Yocum,  and  in  the  evening  we  all  went  to  the  League  to  hear 
the  news,  and  to  National  Hall,  where  George  Francis  Train  was 
speaking. 

The  Union  candidates  are  triumphantly  elected.      TJiank  God! 

Saturday  evening,  November  12,  1864. 

What  a  great  week  this  has  been;  we  shall  not  forget  it  soon. 
I  feel  too  much  impressed  with  its  grandeur  to  go  off  into  rap- 
tures about  it.  Enough  that  it  has  saved  our  country,  and  you 
and  I  will  have  to  thank  God  for  it  all  our  lives.  Old  Massa- 


5i 8  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1864 

chusetts  did  splendidly.  I  am  prouder  of  her  than  ever.  Oh, 
if  all  the  country  were  as  true.  And  yet  no  part  deserves  re- 
proach. All  have  done  well.  Surely  Pennsylvania  has  shown 
that  she  is  all  right.  Now  we  can  look  ahead  and  hope.  We 
have  thought  and  talked  of  little  else  than  the  election  all  this 
week.  Sermons  for  to-morrow  have  been  crowded  into  corners. 
It  seemed  as  if  all  we  could  do  was  to  sit  still  and  be  thankful. 
I  am  going  down  to  Washington  on  Monday  on  Freedmen's  work, 
principally  to  see  our  schools  there,  preparatory  to  another  meet- 
ing in  their  behalf  week  after  next.  I  wish  you  and  Arthur  could 
be  with  us  again  to  give  falat  to  the  occasion. 

Nothing  new  in  church  matters,  except  that  our  organist  has 
resigned  and  we  are  fast  getting  into  a  muddle  about  music. 
Does  that  interest  you? 

The  relation  between  minister  and  organist  had  hitherto 
been  of  the  happiest  kind,  and  Mr.  Brooks  was  most  unwill- 
ing that  it  should  be  severed.  When  Mr.  Redner,  tired  with 
his  onerous  labors  during  the  week,  and  with  his  Sunday 
work  of  superintending  a  Sunday-school  and  teaching  a 
class  of  young  men,  proposed  to  resign  his  position  as  organ- 
ist, Mr.  Brooks  wrote  to  him  in  urgent  protest:  — 

Sunday  evening,  November  5, 1864. 

Mr  DEAR  REDNKB,  —  I  cannot  go  to  bed  without  speaking  to 
yon  again  about  the  organ.  I  believe  the  wardens  have  seen  you, 
but  I  do  not  know  whether  yon  have  given  them  an  answer. 
Whether  you  have  or  not,  I  beg  you  before  it  is  too  late  to  think 
of  it  again.  The  vestry  does  not  meet  until  to-morrow  evening. 
The  more  I  think  of  it  the  more  certain  I  feel  that  we  are  plunged 
into  a  sea  of  troubles  by  your  leaving.  I  do  not  plead  the  plea- 
santness of  our  personal  connections.  You  know  all  that  I  feel 
about  that  so  well  that  I  rejoice  to  know  that  I  need  not  speak 
more  about  it ;  but  I  plead  for  the  good  of  the  church  and  so  for 
our  Master's  cause.  I  felt  to-night  that  your  music  was  just 
what  we  wanted.  Is  not  your  call  to  the  organ  as  evident  and 
divine  as  any  minister's  can  be  to  the  pulpit?  Can  yon  abandon 
it  and  do  right  ? 

Let  me  speak  plainly.  I  fear  yon  have  some  idea  of  a  dissat- 
isfaction in  the  church  and  that  it  is  influencing  you.  I  tell  you 
honestly  that  I  believe  that  there  is  no  chance,  not  the  slightest, 
of  securing  music  which  will  be  to  our  people  what  yours  has 
been.  I  think  it  is  just  what  we  want. 


AT.  28]     THE   POLITICAL  REFORMER      519 

I  know  the  pressure  of  your  Sunday  work.  But  even  if  you 
give  up  your  morning  class,  I  think  you  ought  not  to  let  go  the 
ministry  of  the  organ. 

If  you  go,  I  owe  you  for  the  past  a  debt  too  large  to  tell  you. 
But  you  must  not  go.  My  dear  friend,  do  look  at  it  solemnly  in 
God's  sight  and  decide  for  Him  and  us  to  stay.  May  He  direct 
you. 

Your  sincere  and  anxious  friend,  P.  B. 

Mr.  Brooks  was  still  a  young  man  under  thirty,  but  he 
stood  before  the  community  and  the  nation  as  a  respon- 
sible, influential  leader.  He  was  the  champion  of  national 
unity,  and  as  such  took  to  his  heart  the  army  and  its  leaders, 
and  especially  Lincoln,  its  commander  in  chief,  revering 
them  as  the  servants  of  a  divine  cause.  It  is  impossible  to 
describe  the  activity  he  displayed  in  the  service  of  the  sol- 
diers in  and  near  Philadelphia.  He  made  himself  their 
pastor,  or  was  constituted  such  by  them,  visiting  constantly 
their  camp  and  their  hospitals,  preaching  to  them  as  oppor- 
tunities were  given,  baptizing  them  and  preparing  them  for 
confirmation,  giving  himself  as  freely  in  their  service  as 
though  no  other  duty  was  incumbent  on  him.  But  partic- 
ularly was  he  interested  in  the  negro  soldiers,  and  above  all 
in  the  cause  of  the  freedmen.  He  felt  the  burden  and  the 
gravity  of  the  situation.  He  was  studying  in  advance  the 
problem  of  reconstruction,  which  would  become  the  issue 
when  the  war  was  over.  His  eloquence  was  due  in  some 
measure  to  the  fact  that  his  soul  was  expanding  with  the 
hour,  so  that  he  poured  forth  his  convictions  with  all  the 
power  and  freshness  of  new  truth.  In  his  sermon  before  the 
American  Sunday-School  Union,  in  June,  1864,  he  had  urged 
that  the  children  be  taught  the  sacredness  of  national  life, 
and  the  hatred  of  slavery  as  wrong  in  itself,  as  well  as  an 
evil  which  hindered  the  development  and  consolidation  of  the 
nationality.  In  his  sermon  on  Thanksgiving  Day,  1864,  he 
took  what  was  then  regarded  as  most  extreme  ground  in 
advocating  that  emancipated  slaves  should  be  put  in  posses- 
sion of  the  ballot.  This  sermon  was  one  of  his  great  utter- 
ances. He  was  speaking  to  the  whole  country,  as  no  one 


52o  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1864 

else  was  speaking,  when  he  stood  on  that  day  in  the  pulpit  of 
the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity.  The  air  was  full  of  excite- 
ment. Representatives  of  the  newspapers  were  present,  who 
would  send  his  words  broadcast  over  the  country.  Again  the 
observers  watching  the  scene  were  struck  with  the  contrast 
between  the  richly  appointed  church,  with  its  soft  cushions, 
the  dim  religious  light  from  the  stained-glass  windows,  the 
unintrusive  tones  of  the  organ  soothing  the  worshippers  to 
reverie,  the  cultivated,  fashionable  congregation,  and  the 
church  filled  with  the  vast  crowd  long  before  the  service  be- 
gan, waiting  in  eager  expectancy,  and  on  the  other  hand  the 
thrilling  uncompromising  words  of  the  preacher.  It  seemed 
all  out  of  place  in  an  Episcopal  Church.  He  began  by  giving 
a  history  of  the  war  in  a  brief  summary.  "The  devil  of 
slavery  had  kissed  the  strong  shoulders  of  the  Republic,  and 
the  serpents  sprung  from  her  defiling  lips  were  preying  upon 
her  life.  It  was  agony  to  tear  them  off,  but  it  was  death  to 
let  them  remain.  Despite  our  anguish,  we  had  taken  cour- 
age to  rid  us  of  the  abomination."  Such  were  some  of  the 
sentences  which  made  the  hearers  shudder  as  they  listened. 
Then  the  speaker  came  to  the  social  position  of  the  negro, 
attacking  the  prejudice  against  color,  rebuking  with  righteous 
indignation  the  Street  Car  Directory  of  Philadelphia,  plead- 
ing with  pathos  .mixed  with  satire,  and  most  solemnly,  for 
negro  suffrage.  "  We  ought  to  make,  not  to  be  made  by,  the 
spirit  of  the  times,"  he  said,  when  alluding  finally  to  the 
opposition,  in  church  and  state,  to  the  cause  of  the  fullest 
freedom  for  man. 

In  a  letter  to  his  father  he  speaks  of  this  sermon,  and  of 
other  similar  efforts  he  was  making  to  create  a  sentiment  in 
behalf  of  the  full  emancipation  of  the  negro,  which  could 
only  be  accomplished  by  giving  him  the  right  of  suffrage :  — 

Wednesday,  November  23, 1864. 

DEAB  FATHER,  —  ...  To-morrow  is  Thanksgiving  Day.  I 
have  been  busy  all  day  on  my  sermon.  It  is  from  Ps.  cxviii.  27: 
"God  is  the  Lord,  which  hath  showed  us  light:  bind  the  sacrifice 
with  cords,  even  unto  the  horns  of  the  altar."  It  is  what  some 
people  call  Politics;  what  I  call  National  Morals.  .  .  .  We  had 


William  Gray  Brooks 


JET.  28]     THE  POLITICAL  REFORMER      521 

a  great  Freedmen's  meeting  at  Concert  Hall  on  Monday  evening. 
It  rained  torrents,  but  the  hall  was  full.  I  sent  William  a 
"  Press  "  with  the  report,  hut  beg  you  most  earnestly  not  to  believe 
that  I  said  all  the  foolish  and  contradictory  things  which  the 
reporter  there  puts  in  my  mouth.  Next  Monday  I  am  going  to 
Pittsburg  to  speak  before  a  meeting  of  the  same  character.  The 
western  part  of  our  State  has  done  nothing,  and  we  want  to  wake 
it  up  if  we  can.  I  had  a  most  interesting  visit  in  Washington, 
though  it  was  very  short;  but  I  saw  at  once  the  magnitude  and 
the  feasibility  of  the  great  work  we  have  undertaken.  .  .  .  Lots 
of  love  to  all. 

Your  affectionate  son,  PHILL. 

In  the  midst  of  this  excitement,  when  the  tension  of  his 
being  was  at  the  strongest,  he  comments  to  his  brother  on  the 
inevitable  birthday,  —  the  13th  of  December.  Although  it 
could  have  been  only  a  mere  casual  suggestion  entering  his 
mind  lightly  and  then  forgotten,  yet  the  coincidence  may  be 
noted  that  he  puts  the  limit  of  his  years  at  fifty-eight. 

PHILADELPHIA,  December  12, 1864. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  I  am  twenty-nine  years  old  to-morrow,  just 
think  of  it!  How  we  are  getting  along.  Well,  there  are  very 
few  fellows  who  get  to  be  as  old  as  we  are  and  have  such  a  good 
time  generally  all  the  way  along.  We  had  a  nice  time  before  we 
went  to  school,  a  nice  time  at  school,  and  a  nice  time  since  we 
left.  Let  us  hope  the  rest  of  our  time,  till  we  are  fifty-eight  and 
sixty,  will  go  as  smoothly  as  the  past,  and  then  we  can  say  Good-by 
to  the  world  as  to  a  very  kind  old  friend.  What  splendid  cold 
weather !  Philadelphia  actually  feels  like  Boston  this  morning. 
Yesterday  was  a  horrible  day.  Rain  and  sleet  overhead,  slosh 
and  mire  under  foot.  I  preached  at  the  chapel  in  the  morning 
and  at  the  church  in  the  afternoon,  and  at  the  evening  was  at  a 
meeting  for  a  Colored  Sunday-school,  —  a  good  full  day,  you  will 
see.  Fred  was  with  me,  in  good  spirits,  taking  the  world  easily 
and  apparently  having  a  good  time.  I  was  out  at  his  room  last 
week.  It  looked  comfortable  and  he  seemed  very  much  at  home 
there.  He  seems  to  like  the  fellows  at  the  seminary,  and  he  is 
making  himself  a  good  name  there.  Why  don't  we  hear  from 
Sherman  ?  Is  he  stuck  there  in  the  depths  of  Georgia,  or  thun- 
dering at  the  gates  of  Savannah?  We  must  wait  and  see,  but  let 
us  hope  for  the  greatest  and  the  best. 

His  father  also  remembers  the  birthday,  and  writes  to  him 


522  PHILLIPS   BROOKS  [1864 

that  he  was  not  forgotten  at  home,  and  that  his  mother  was 
full  of  thoughts  about  him.  His  father  was  becoming  anx- 
ious lest  his  son  should  carry  his  "radicalism,"  as  he  calls  it, 
too  far.  At  this  time,  also,  his  mother  had  her  misgivings, 
but  they  sprang  from  another  cause,  and  will  be  alluded  to 
hereafter.  An  extract  from  his  father's  letter  gives  the  atti- 
tude of  sober  conservative  men,  in  Boston  and  elsewhere,  in 
regard  to  negro  suffrage :  — 

BOSTON,  December  13, 1864. 

MY  DEAR  SON,  — ...  We  have  seen  the  notices  of  your 
Thanksgiving  sermon  in  the  "Independent  "  and  the  "Anti-Slavery 
Standard. "  You  seem  to  be  in  favor  with  the  radicals  of  that 
stamp.  Don't  go  too  far.  It  will  require  all  your  best  judg- 
ment and  caution  to  know  just  how  far  to  go.  Remember  you 
occupy  a  prominent  position  and  your  course  will  be  watched. 
Don't  make  it  too  much  "one  idea,"  or  you  will  split  on  the  rock 
so  many  ministers  have  before  you,  of  making  your  situation  as 
a  minister  of  the  gospel  a  secondary  matter.  How  thoroughly 
has  Ward  Beecher  done  this !  Do  you  suppose  his  congregation 
go  to  hear  him  as  a  Christian  minister?  No,  it  is  all  for  his 
allusions  and  quaint  expressions  upon  his  one  idea,  and  they  are 
followed  up  by  applause.  It  is  sad  to  see  the  house  of  God  and 
the  pulpit  so  debased.  Cheever  is  another  instance ;  how  essen- 
tially has  he  lost  his  character  as  a  Christian  minister.  Are  you 
not  going  too  fast  to  advocate  the  entire  freedom  and  equality  of 
the  negro,  even  to  the  right  of  suffrage,  as  1  understand  from 
those  notices  that  you  do?  I  cannot  believe  tbat  it  is  best  or 
advisable  to  introduce  another  foreign  element  into  our  elections ; 
it  certainly  cannot  raise  the  standards  of  our  right  of  suffrage  or 
the  character  of  our  candidates.  Let  us  keep  the  ballot  box  as 
pure  as  we  can.  However  you  may  argue  the  point  of  the  races 
being  intellectually  equal,  yet  politically  to  my  mind  there  is 
no  question.  I  hope  I  shall  never  live  to  see  it,  and  for  the  sake 
of  my  children  I  hope  it  will  never  be  done.  Don't  go  too  far. 
How  many  good  causes  have  been  injured,  nay  ruined,  by  that. 
Go  on  in  aid  of  the  Freedmen  as  much  as  you  please,  but  such  a 
measure  as  that  is  not  to  their  aid  in  the  present  stage  of 
affairs.  .  .  . 

Yours  affectionately,  FATHER. 

To  this  letter  Phillips  replied  soon  after.  The  allusion 
to  "Miss  Susan"  (Phillips),  his  aunt,  is  interesting,  for  it 


JET.  28]     THE  POLITICAL   REFORMER     523 

throws  light  on  the  characteristics  of  the  Phillips  family. 
When  the  call  came  for  help  she  went  forth  where  she  was 
needed.  It  was  part  of  the  humor  among  the  children  to 
imitate  their  elders  in  speaking  of  her,  now  as  "Susan"  and 
then  as  "Miss  Susan." 

PHILADELPHIA,  Monday,  December  19,  1864. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER,  —  Thanks  for  your  note.  You  seem  quite 
troubled  about  my  radicalism.  Don't  let  it  disturb  you.  There 
is  no  danger.  I  certainly  think  the  negro  ought  to  be  free,  and 
I  am  sure  he  is  going  to  be.  And  I  think  he  ought  to  vote,  and 
am  sure  he  will  in  time;  but  neither  of  these  things  is  the  subject 
of  my  preaching,  except  on  rare  occasions.  I  trust  I  know  my 
work  too  well  for  that.  I  preach  what  I  was  ordained  to  preach, 
—  the  gospel,  nothing  else ;  but  as  a  part  of  the  gospel  I  accept 
the  rebuking  of  sins,  and  public  sins  as  well  as  private.  One  of 
these  days  Utah  will  try  to  come  in  with  all  her  shameful  customs 
and  institutions,  and  then  I  shall  preach  against  Polygamy.  I 
know  not  how  to  work  on  any  other  system.  My  Thanksgiving 
sermon  is  not  going  to  be  published.  It  is  radical,  but  quiet, 
calm,  and  I  think  Christian.  I  did  not  see  the  notice  in  the 
"Anti-Slavery  Standard." 

I  wish  you  had  been  with  me  the  other  night.  I  went  out  to 
preside  at  a  Sanitary  Commission  meeting  at  Germantown.  One 
of  the  speakers  was  a  Rev.  Mr.  Whittaker,  just  from  Annapolis, 
and  before  I  knew  it  he  was  in  the  midst  of  a  glowing  tribute  to 
"Miss  Susan."  He  laid  it  on  thick.  Painted  her  as  an  angel, 
as  she  is  almost,  and  closed  up  by  saying  that  she  was  sister  to 
the  venerated  founder  of  the  great  Phillips  Academy  at  Andover. 
That  would  make  her  out  about  how  old  ?  You  can  tell.  .  .  . 

Affectionately,          PHILL. 

Saturday,  December  24,  1864. 

DEAR  WILLIAM,  —  A  Merry  Christmas  to  you.  I  hope  you 
will  get  this  in  time  for  Monday's  turkey,  so  that  you  will  be  able 
to  tell  Everybody  in  the  family  Circle  how  much  the  Exiles  think 
about  them  and  wish  that  they  could  be  at  home  among  you. 

I  am  surprised  at  the  way  in  which  both  you  and  Father  pitch 
into  me  for  over  Radicalism.  I  thought  nobody  could  outgo  you 
two  now.  Do  you  know  that  our  conservative  brother  Frederick 
endorses  my  position?  I  tell  you  we  must  come  to  it.  Repub- 
lican government  does  not  know  such  a  thing  as  an  unvoting  sub- 
ject. It  has  no  place  for  Obey  era  and  Supporters  who  are  not 


524  PHILLIPS  BROOKS  [1864 

Governors  and  Directors  too.  We  have  got  either  to  eradicate  the 
Negroes  or  to  integrate  them.  The  first  we  can't  do,  the  second 
we  must.  Next  week  I 'go  to  Pittsburg  again. 

I  have  had  an  application  from  the  Church  Home  in  Boston, 
but  it  will  be  impossible  for  me  to  spend  a  Sunday  there. 

In  his  speech  at  Pittsburg  on  the  29th  of  December  he 
gave  himself  loose  rein,  speaking  out  his  full  conviction  with 
glowing  earnestness.  What  he  said  briefly  in  his  Thanks- 
giving sermon,  he  now  enlarged  upon,  and  urged  with  all  his 
power,  —  the  necessity  of  giving  the  negro  the  ballot  in  order 
to  the  completion  of  his  freedom;  the  responsibility  resting 
upon  the  North  to  provide  the  possibilities  of  the  amplest 
education ;  the  crisis  at  hand  when,  untrained  and  unaccus- 
tomed to  care  for  himself,  in  his  ignorance  and  laziness,  he 
might  become  a  menace  to  the  country  unless  the  people 
should  give  him  the  conditions  of  essential  manhood;  the 
faith  in  the  negro,  as  ready  to  respond  with  gratitude  and 
devotion,  and  as  having  already  shown  the  capacity  and  the 
promise  for  a  great  future.  The  address  was  extempore,  and 
no  record  of  it  has  been  kept  beyond  the  report  in  the  news- 
papers. We  may  believe  that  it  did  the  true  work  of  a 
speech,  and  that  the  deep  impression  on  the  large  audience 
resulted  in  creating  a  new  conviction  and  purpose. 

On  the  last  day  of  the  year  he  kept  the  watch  meeting  at 
Mr.  Cooper's  church,  where  he  made  an  address.  And  so 
was  ushered  in  the  great  year  in  the  divine  grace  of  1865. 


Xbr  nilirrsi&c  prr  <r* 

Eltctrotyptd  and  printed  by  H.  O.  ffougkttm  &•  Co 
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